Nothing But Blue Skies
by portioncontrol
Summary: Though this was written after season six, it can best be appreciated if you pretend it was written just before season four. Thrill as the Greendale Seven experience their fourth and final year in school together! Mostly it's about Jeff and Annie, because everything is. (Formerly titled 'They All Just Fade Away,' which was a placeholder I almost never got around to replacing.)
1. Mandatory Historiography Act 1

MANDATORY HISTORIOGRAPHY CREDIT FOR SENIORS NEEDING TO MEET DISTRIBUTION REQUIREMENTS

Act I

* * *

Early morning in the Greendale cafeteria. Jeff sagged on one side of the booth; he didn't look like he'd spent an hour creating a rolled-out-of-bed look, he looked like he'd actually just rolled out of bed. "I was older," he said, stirring the coffee in front of him and watching the white spiderweb on black become a smooth brown mirror. "And I had a job teaching here, and… I don't remember much of it. It was a dream, you know? There's always stuff in dreams. Pierce was dead and Troy was old and Shirley was white and Annie was leaving to be an FBI agent. You were about the same."

Across from him, Abed nodded. "Annie would be a good FBI agent."

"Yeah, of course."

"Dreams are meaningless random pictures your brain makes while you sleep because it doesn't have any sensory input to process. It's a form of madness that everybody is just okay with for some reason."

Jeff looked up, slightly alarmed at the mention of madness. He looked around, confirming that there was almost no one else in the cafeteria — just him, Abed, and Shirley. Technically he had been Shirley's Sandwiches first bona fide customer of the semester. Shirley had credited Abed, though, since he'd ordered a breakfast sandwich and Jeff had only gotten the coffee, which he hadn't drunk.

"When you said last night that you wanted to meet early, you hadn't had your dream yet," Abed observed. "So you wanted to talk about something else."

Jeff glanced up, shrugged. "Yeah, no. I, uh, I'm a little out of it."

"Okay. We can just sit here in silence if you want. Usually you have your phone out when we do that, though." Abed gestured in the direction of Jeff's hip pocket.

"It's the first day of our fourth year here," Jeff said, unwilling to lapse back into silence. "I thought you might be worried about that."

Abed shook his head. "No."

"You're fine?"

"No. Yes, I'm fine, but I'm calling 'no' on you worrying about me. You never worry about me unless I act out in some kind of dramatic fashion, like trying to cut off your arm with a bonesaw —"

"When did you —"

"And I'm fine." Abed ticked points off on his fingers. "Troy is back in the apartment. Everybody is taking 'Mandatory Historiography Credit for Seniors Needing to Meet Distribution Requirements,' so the study group is staying together. And I made a cardboard Dream-Sedanette. Everything's fine."

"Well, it's the last year. Two more semesters, and I'll be back to being a lawyer, Annie will be running a hospital somewhere… Everybody will be leaving."

"Everybody leaves eventually," said Abed. "I know that sounds dark, but community college isn't a place anyone really wants to spend their whole lives. Plus aside from maybe you and Annie no one's going anywhere soon. I'm still at least five semesters short completing a film major because I just sign up for whatever classes sound good and my father pays for my expenses as long as I'm enrolled with a full courseload. Troy can do whatever he wants in the Air Conditioning Repair Annex. Britta wants to get a Master's, which will be at least two more years, probably more knowing her. Shirley runs the sandwich shop and pretends not to eavesdrop. Pierce…" Abed considered it a moment. "Pierce does whatever he wants."

Shirley picked that moment to carry Abed's sandwich over to them. It was some unholy amalgam of bagel, cheese, egg, and sausage that both attracted and repelled Jeff in equal measure. He suspected the whole thing had been soaked in butter.

"Here you go, Abed," Shirley said, affecting a gentle lilt. "A number one with sausage. I wasn't eavesdropping, but there's nobody else here and the acoustics in this cafeteria make it hard to avoid hearing you. And Jeff just worries about you like we all do, because you're important to us." She sat down next to Jeff, across from Abed in the booth.

"Jeff's not worried about me," Abed said through a mouthful of seductively greasy-looking heart disease. He's worried about Annie."

"What? No I don't!" For a moment Jeff was thirteen years old again, red-faced and trying to deny he had a crush on a girl. Seeing Shirley's eyes narrow at his vehemence, he forced himself to calm down. "I mean, I'm not. Annie's fine."

"You mentioned her leaving twice in the last two minutes. He's worried about Annie," Abed told Shirley.

Shirley twisted in the booth to face Jeff. "Jeffrey, is this true? Is there something you know about Annie that we don't?" She leaned forward. "Is it pills again?" she whispered, then straightened up. "That's ridiculous," she said in a normal tone. "She's a very strong person, even if she hasn't yet come to Jesus, and she doesn't need anyone fretting over her."

"I'm not fretting over anybody. Do I look like I'm fretting?" Jeff forced himself to visibly relax. "I'm not a guy who frets, unless you're talking about stringing guitars, which I also don't do. I could, because as we all know guitars are cool, but I don't, because as we all know effort is not cool."

"Mmm hmm." Shirley sounded doubtful. She stared at Jeff, trying to divine his intent.

"Anyway I'm going to go get some coffee before class starts," Jeff said in a rush. He slid out of the booth away from Shirley and rose to his feet.

"I just gave you coffee," Shirley protested. She pointed to the paper cup still on the table.

"And it was great," Jeff assured her. He scooped the cup up and drained it in a gulp. Fortunately it turned out to have cooled enough he didn't scald himself, but scalding himself had been a risk he was willing to take. "But I'm out, and instead of getting a refill from you I'm going to run over to the Starbucks and pay too much money for something with soy and espresso that a chesty girl in a green apron will hand to me and smile, because that will make me feel better about myself."

Shirley stared at him a moment. "I can't help but feel a little hurt," she said, affecting a gentle tone. "I know my sexuality intimidates you, but I could get a green apron, if it would make you more comfortable." She exchanged glances with Abed. "Jeffrey, what's gotten into you?"

"Nothing! Nothing at all. I'll see you in class!" Jeff called over his shoulder as he dashed out of the cafeteria.

"Jeffrey!" Shirley shook her head slightly.

"This is a good sandwich," Abed observed as he finished it. "Did you get it from Subway? They do breakfast now."

Shirley stared at him a moment.

* * *

Annie sat alone in the apartment, losing at Fruit Ninja on her phone, and tried not be angry. She had no reason to be angry. People could do whatever they wanted; no one owed her an explanation much less consideration. She had chosen the choices she chose to choose; it wasn't Troy's fault.

Still, she was annoyed. Not angry. Barely irritated. But annoyed. Annie and Abed and Troy had made plans, or at least she had made plans in their presence and they hadn't disagreed. Yet here she was, waiting alone.

Annie was about to give up and walk to school alone when she heard footsteps outside, followed by the thump of someone leaning against the door. Giggles. Troy's voice, too low for her to make out the words. Annie straightened her dress and adjusted her hair as a key turned in the lock and the front door swung open.

"Morning guys!" she cried as cheerily as she could, as soon as the door was open. Troy was, as she'd guessed, still wearing what he'd had on when he left the night before.

Britta unwrapped from around Troy and stopped pressing him against the doorframe. "Annie, hi."

"We were just practicing for a play," Troy blurted out.

Britta elbowed him.

"We were kissing," Troy admitted.

"That's fine." Annie made a show of going back to her game of Fruit Ninja. "Did you get the milk?" she asked, off-handedly, as though she were just making idle conversation.

"Milk?" Britta repeated.

Troy winced. "Oh, that's right! I'm sorry, I got distracted when Britta sexted me…"

"Don't say 'sexted,'" Britta interjected. "All I said was 'hey what's up?'"

"Yeah, like that's not being sexy," replied Troy. He shifted his weight and leaned close to her. "Hey, girl," he said softly, "what's up?"

Britta giggled, and started kissing him — their mouths were only about two inches apart, it wasn't hard.

Annie cleared her throat, and they decoupled.

"See?" Troy waggled a finger in Britta's face. "And you're way sexier than me!"

"You think?" Britta asked, surprised and pleased.

Troy nodded, and Annie cleared her throat again, preemptively. "On the one hand, aw, you guys are adorable. On the other hand, I was going to use that milk to make First Day of Classes Pancakes."

"Damn, I could have had pancakes?" Troy snapped his fingers. "Curse you, sexy devil-woman!"

"Hey, this is the first I'm hearing about milk!" Britta stepped back from Troy, into the apartment. "That one's on you, Lucy Liu."

"Actually I texted you about it, when I realized how long Troy had been gone and what he was probably doing," said Annie.

"Did you?" Britta checked her phone, and grimaced. "Yeah you did."

"Anyway it's okay. Abed went and got milk and I made the pancakes this morning."

Troy's face lit up. "Yeah? Did you make any shaped like Mickey Mouse?"

"In the fridge." Annie pointed to the kitchen. "But I don't think you have time to eat it now. We've got to get to class."

Troy nodded absently. "Where's Abed?"

"He went in early, I don't know why." Annie shrugged. "Were you guys supposed to do something?"

Britta turned to Troy. "I didn't break up some planned Troy-and-Abed hijinks, did I?"

"Nah." Troy shook his head as he stepped closer and put an arm around Britta. She snuggled into him. "I don't think so." He glanced at Britta, as if she were his appointments secretary, and then the glance turned into a straight-up _look_ , and then they were leaning in…

Annie cleared her throat a third time, and Britta and Troy decoupled again.

"You need water or something, Annie? You don't sound good," said Troy. "I don't know if you've noticed but you're clearing your throat a lot. Is it allergies?"

She fixed her smile in place and rose to her feet. "I'm fine."

Britta, recognizing Annie's mood, took a couple of steps back from Troy. "You need to grab your backpack," she reminded him. "We gotta get going."

"Right." Troy nodded. "Especially if we need to stop and get antihistamines on the way." He pushed past Britta, and headed off towards the Dreamatorium. Which, Annie reminded herself, was as of the day before yesterday _Troy's room_.

"Are we being awful?" Britta asked Annie anxiously, once Troy was out of earshot. "I've never been dating, um, a friend's roommate like this before. Is there some kind of code? I haven't had a lot of female friends. Was I supposed to text you? Is that the rule? I'm more into tearing down gender stereotypes than playing into them in the name of some ill-conceived vision of sisterhood that was probably created in some all-male writer's room…"

"Britta." Annie stepped close to Britta, put her hands on Britta's biceps and held her gaze.

"I'm babbling?"

Annie nodded. "It's okay. Everything's okay. I mean…" Impulsively she slid her arms around Britta and hugged her close. "You guys seem really happy."

"Yeah. I mean, well, sure." Britta suddenly sounded doubtful. "I mean, right now we're at the honeymoon phase, you know? Where you spend the first couple of weeks in bed together and it's only afterwards you find out he's…" She trailed off. "You know, not what you thought."

"Oh. Um, right." Annie was glad she was still embracing Britta, so Britta couldn't see the look on her face. She hadn't ever quite had that particular experience. A sudden sting of jealousy came out of nowhere, surprising her. She'd moved on from Troy as a romantic prospect literally years ago, and she was on record as thinking Britta and Troy were cute together. But Annie had never gotten to the deliriously-happy stage of a relationship. The closest had been with Vaughn, but even then she'd been aware she was forcing it, deep down…

Britta spoke, rousing Annie from her reverie. "It's okay?"

"It's okay." She tried to think of something to say that Britta wouldn't take the wrong way. "I'm glad you're happy."

From the way Britta sagged against her, Annie surmised she'd picked the right thing. She heard Britta sniffle into her ear. "That's the nicest thing a guy's roommate has ever said to me." Britta straightened up, wiping her eyes. "I mean, you're not just a guy's roommate, you're Annie. You're my friend. We do girl stuff together and everything." She sniffled again.

"Dang it," said Troy as he returned from his room, bookbag slung across his back. "Britta, you've got allergies too? Did Abed get a secret cat again?"

* * *

9:22. Eight minutes before the start of 'Mandatory Historiography Credit for Seniors Needing to Meet Distribution Requirements.'

Jeff pressed his way through the crowded hallway. Whatever else you could say about Greendale, its recent trials hadn't reduced the incoming student body any. Distressingly young people thronged about him, making it difficult to reach the classroom.

"Jeffrey!" A familiar voice cut through the din.

Jeff turned reflexively. "Yeah?" _I have got to stop doing that_ , he thought to himself. Acknowledging Pierce only ever made things worse.

"Jeffrey," the older man repeated as he approached. He clapped Jeff on the back as though they hadn't just been together at the trial with Alan, and then the Biology final, less than a week ago.

If they had been separated for months, Jeff might have been minimally glad to see him, but as it was… Jeff said nothing, waiting for Pierce to get to his point.

Pierce was wearing a surprisingly nice suit, something tailored after Bush the Senior left office for once. "Jeff. The Jeffinator." Pierce blinked a few times. "Jeffarino," he continued. "Jeffacaboodle. Jeffapalooza, making copies… Jeff Jorf Jim, the Jeff-Jeff Man! Butch Cassidy and the Jeff Winger Kid! Winger! The Wingman! The Winginator. Wingarino…"

If Jeff didn't say something he would keep this up for minutes. "Hey, Pierce."

"I'm glad I caught you, there are several things we need to talk about."

"Uh. Can it wait until after class? You're signed up for 'Mandatory Historiography Credit for Seniors Needing to Meet Distribution Requirements,' too, right?"

"Hah, actually, no. Funny story…" Pierce paused to push his glasses up his nose. "Wait. Is that Starbucks?"

Jeff glanced down at the cup still in his hand. "…Yes?"

"As co-owner of Shirley's Sandwiches, I'm very disappointed in you, Jeff." Pierce leaned forward conspiratorially. "As a man, though, that barista with the boobs is a real babe, right? The redhead?"

"Sure," said Jeff, because it would end the conversation quicker.

Instead Britta appeared from out the teeming throng. "Guys! Everybody else is already inside. We saved you seats…"

"I won't be needing one," Pierce announced. "You see, after seventeen years of classes, I've finally graduated from Greendale Community College, effective as of last Friday."

"Um, congratulations?" offered Britta.

"Why are you here, then?" Jeff asked. Clearly something was up.

"Well, I…"

"Pierce!"

Pierce broke off as his name was called. "Carl! Richie!" He waved.

"Who?" Jeff asked Britta, who shrugged.

Two members of the school board, each with an open can of beer, sidled up to them through the thinning crowd of students. "Greendale school board in the house!" cried the big one.

"Woot woot!" chanted the little one.

Pierce exchanged high-fives with them both. "Woot woot indeed," he agreed.

"Who's your friend, Piercelstein?" The little one leered at Britta. "You need some course credits? I can hook you up."

"What? How many credits, I mean," Britta swallowed, "how dare you!"

The big one, Richie, laughed nervously. "He's joking, of course. We don't do that any more, Carl."

"I've been invited to join the school board!" Pierce explained.

Carl nodded. "After what happened last semester we needed someone to scapegoat in case the whole story ever gets out."

"And of course Pierce Hawthorne is a pillar of the community and an ass, ah, ash," Richie held up one finger while he took a swing from his beer. "Sorry, I was trying to say _asset_ to the board. It's been a long day."

"It's nine thirty in the morning," Britta muttered.

"Yeah, but I'm still drunk from last night. We were inducting the Piercinator here into the Greendale Community College Board of Trustees."

"Ain't no party like a Greendale Community College Board of Trustees party," sang Carl. "'Cause a Greendale Community College Board of Trustees party don't stop! Don't stop, don't hop, hop, hop, bippity-bop…" Carl started dancing, to go with his impromptu freestyle rap, but stopped when no one joined in. "Are we not dancing?"

"TGIFriday's on a Sunday night is a wild scene, let me tell you," said Pierce. Then he started, remembering something. "Did you not get my text inviting you?"

"Probably. I mean, obviously I don't have your number blocked, what kind of friend would I be then? Anyway, it's great that you're finally moving on to better things," Jeff said, "and a better class of people," he added, eyeing Richie and Carl.

"Oh, don't you worry, Jeffrey," Pierce said with a chuckle. "I'm not going anywhere, believe you me."

"Uh huh, great. Did you come down here just to tell us that?"

Britta checked the time on her phone. "Hey, yeah, everybody's inside! Class is about to start!"

"I gotta do a thing," Pierce told Richie and Carl.

"No problem." Richie shrugged. "I have a court appearance in an hour anyway."

"And I'm already late for AA." Carl said, checking his watch.

"Meet you afterwards at Chili's? Awesome blossom? Awesome blossom? Awesome blossom?" Pierce suggested, pointing at Carl, Richie, and Jeff in turn.

"Pass," said Jeff. "I have way better ways to slowly poison myself." He turned away from the school board and crossed the now-empty hall into the classroom.


	2. Mandatory Historiography Act 2

MANDATORY HISTORIOGRAPHY CREDIT FOR SENIORS NEEDING TO MEET DISTRIBUTION REQUIREMENTS

Act 2

* * *

"Britta," said Pierce, clapping her on the back as they followed Jeff into the classroom. Troy, Abed, Annie, and Shirley were already seated, "How long has it been?"

"Like a day and a half," Britta said as she took the seat on the end next to Troy.

"Oh, I remember sitting in classrooms like this with you guys," Pierce said wistfully as he took the rearmost seat in the room, behind Abed. "Like it was just yesterday."

"Instead of six days ago?" Jeff had slid into a seat between Shirley and Annie. He grinned at Annie as she shushed him.

"Is everybody here? Jeffrey? Yes?" The dean appeared, suddenly, in the doorway. "Hello putative rising seniors," he began with a wave.

The class managed a 'hello' back, in ragged unison.

"Welcome to 'Mandatory Historiography Credit for Seniors Needing to Meet Distribution Requirements,' or as I like to call it, Man-Hist-Cred for, uh… Sennedmet Dist-Req." He started to write that on the chalkboard in the front of the room, and got as far as Cred before giving up. "I'm sure you've noticed that the course syllabus and instructor are both listed as TBD in the catalog. And probably you're thinking that I'm here to shed some light on this mysterious… Man-hiss-cred." He gestured towards the letters he'd scrawled behind him.

"Or maybe you're wondering why instead of something fun like a sexy bee or sexy Indian chief or sexy mustard or frog, I'm in administrator drag like this?" The dean indicated his corduroy jacket and tie. "Well, I can answer both concerns with the same answer: a compulsory anti-shilly-shallying initiative led by one of our school board's newest members! Pierce?"

"Thank you, dean," Pierce said, rising to his feet. "Ladies, gentlemen, Vicky." He scowled at Vicky, who scowled right back. "As you all know, I'm Pierce Hawthorne, leader of the so-called Greendale Seven. We saved the school when it was overrun by feral children, this past spring? You remember."

There was a murmur in the crowd. Almost all of the students in 'Mandatory Historiography Credit for Seniors Needing to Meet Distribution Requirements' had shared classes with the study group over the last four years.

"As a direct result of that series of unfortunate events, I was asked to spearhead an initiative… one of many policy initiatives I've spearheaded over my illustrious career… you know, I approved the funding for the Hawthorne Paper Products research team that developed an artificial lime scent safe for use on wipes for babies of all races? Not just white and black, all the miscellaneous ones, too. So I know a thing or two about inclusion and the importance of diversity and other PC buzzwords."

"Where is he going with this?" Annie whispered to Jeff. Jeff shook his head, unsure.

"And I also know, thanks to experiences with several other formulations of artificial lime scent, a series of class-action lawsuits, and binding nondisclosure agreements…" Pierce paused, apparently for dramatic effect. "I also know the importance of sweeping potentially damaging information under the rug. There's a sign-in sheet… has everyone signed it? Where is it?"

The sign-in sheet, the top sheet of several on a clipboard, was at that moment being passed to Abed.

"Okay, once everyone has signed that, I'll continue. In the meantime, uh, dean, why don't you explain to the class that there is no 'Mandatory Historiography Credit for Seniors Needing to Meet Distribution Requirements' and we made it up?"

There was a chorus of _what?_ s and _I don't understand_ s and _let's riot_ s from the crowd. The dean, who had sat back down at the front of the class during Pierce's speech, rose again to his feet. "Calm down, calm down, everybody, it's all right," he told them. "Pierce is right. Man Hiss was our invention to get everyone who intends to graduate at the end of the year together, for this series of dramatic announcements. Why?" he asked, repeating the questions students in the front were already peppering him with. "Because no one reads my emails, that's why! No matter how many exclamation marks I use!"

"But I checked the student handbook," muttered Annie. "There is a mandatory historiography requirement, and there aren't any other historiography classes besides this one."

Shirley, next to her, nodded in agreement. "I don't have time for this damn foolishness!"

"I know, I know," the dean said, trying again to quiet the crowd. "No one has time for my damn foolishness. And besides if you were all in one class it'd be too big and it'd violate the fire codes. Technically we're in violation right now, but I won't tell if you don't." The dean made a pooh-poohing gesture. "Anyway there will be two sections of Historiography offered. I have the schedules right here. The A section," he held up a sheet on a clipboard in his right hand, "meets for one hour, Monday through Friday, at six in the morning, and the B section," here he flipped to the second page on the clipboard, "meets Thursdays in the afternoon lab slot, from one thirty to three. I have here two more sign-up sheets, I'm going to pass these around. We can't have more than twenty-five students in each section, so, when one fills up, it fills up."

"Speaking of sheets, has everyone signed in yet? Yes? Yes!" Pierce scooped up the sign-in sheet from Britta, the last to sign in. "I'll be right back."

"And apparently Pierce will be right back," said the dean, as Pierce ducked out the back door of the classroom. "So that's fun."

The dean handed the sheets to someone in the front row, and the crowd of students surged forward. Everyone wanted to sign up for the class that didn't meet at six in the morning.

Stuck in the back of the class, the study group tried to push through the crowd, but couldn't reach the front.

"I don't believe this," said Troy. "We're being punished for sitting in the cool section!"

"But isn't sitting in the cool section its own reward?" offered Abed.

"That may be true," conceded Troy. "I would have to think about it, and I have a better idea!" He leaped up onto the table in front of his seat, and hopped forward to the table in the next row, and on until he stood head and shoulders about the rest of the class, in the midst of the crowd busily signing up for the weekly afternoon section. "Yoink!" he cried, snatching the clipboard out of Leonard's hands.

"Hey!"

"Shut up Leonard," Troy said over his shoulder as he hopped back on the table-tops to the rest of the study group. "You're old and bald and don't have any friends!"

"There's no need to be hateful," Leonard said quietly.

Troy reached the study group only moments ahead of the crowd of their fellow-seniors. He tossed the clipboard down into their midst, as everyone circled. With admirable teamwork, Jeff, Britta, Shirley, and Abed formed a human shield around Annie, who held the clipboard and a pen.

"Hurry up and write our names!" Britta said with a groan. "Someone's elbow is digging into my back!"

Annie flipped back and forth between the two sections' pages. "You guys, there's a problem. There are only two slots left in the afternoon section." She started writing their names in the morning section, beginning with her own. Unsurprisingly it still had plenty of slots open.

"It's not a problem," said Jeff. He snatched the clipboard away from her.

"Hey!"

Jeff scanned the afternoon section roster, and crossed out four names of people he didn't like. "Now there's six." He scribbled his name in one of the remaining blanks, and Annie's below it. He'd started on Abed's, in the margin with an arrow pointing to one of the crossed-out names, when Annie snatched the clipboard back from him.

"Jeff! You can't do that!" Scowling, she crossed out her own name on the afternoon section's sheet.

"What are you doing?" Jeff shrieked as Annie added his name to the morning section's sheet. He pulled it away from her and started crossing out and writing names, she took it back and did the same, and so on.

The clipboard passed back and forth between them several more times before Vicky finally broke through, between Britta and Shirley. She grabbed the clipboard and threw it, overhand, across the room where another student caught it. "Not everything is all about you!" Vicky snapped at the group before dashing off in the direction she'd thrown the clipboard.

"You know that's not true!" Jeff called out to her.

"Where did we end up?" Shirley asked Jeff and Annie. The pair exchanged nervous glances.

"I'm not sure," Annie said.

"I can't believe you wrote my name in the morning section," Jeff told her.

"You crossed it out!"

"And you crossed out your name in the afternoon section!" he retorted.

"Jeff, we wouldn't all fit in the afternoon section."

"That's okay! They don't all have to take the same section as us. They could have taken the morning section, and we'd find some blow-off elective to take with them."

"Listen to yourself," Annie said coldly, her arms folded. "What 'us' are you even talking about?"

Before Jeff answered he heard the dean calling, once again, for order from the front of the classroom. "I don't know why I always do it like this. Somebody always gets trampled, you'd think we'd learn. Oh, well. Would somebody help Kyle to the health center? Thanks, great…"

The class gradually took their seats again as the dean leafed through the two section sheets. "My, you people really made a mess of things, didn't you? Hard to believe you're all only a few credits short of bachelor's degrees. I'm going to read off these rosters, just to make sure we have the right head count. Starting with the afternoon section, I see Annie Kim, Frederick Lindstrom…"

It turned out that, at the point Vicky snatched away the rosters, Jeff and Annie had managed to split the six of them fifty-fifty between the two sections. Jeff, Abed, and Britta were in the afternoon section, while Annie, Shirley, and Troy were in the morning section.

"See what you did?" Jeff and Annie demanded of one another.

"Oh, you spoke in unison! I love when people do that," said Troy.

"I don't see why _you're_ upset," Annie snapped at Jeff, ignoring Troy.

"Calm down, both of you, please," suggested Shirley in her best Mom voice.

"Because now we're in different sections, which was totally preventable!" Jeff retorted, ignoring Shirley.

"Apparently who's in the afternoon section doesn't matter so long as it's you. And the rest of us can just find some blow-off elective to take with you."

Jeff smacked his forehead and ran his hand back through his hair. "Maybe? I have a really tight schedule this semester and next, to graduate on time. I wanted to take some more classes over the summer, but when we had to retake Biology…"

"So that was just an idle promise? Augh!" Annie spun away from him, her hair flaring out, and stomped out of the classroom.

"Annie!" Jeff called, chasing after her.

Britta, Shirley, and Troy all shook their heads and sighed. Abed sighed, too, a moment later.

"Those two are so exhausting," Shirley said.

"Tell me about it," agreed Britta.

"Yeah, so exhausting," agreed Abed. "Who are we talking about? Are we talking about Jeff and Annie, or Neil and Vicky, or Pierce and the dean, or Ross and Rachel on _Friends_ , or…?"

"Why would we be talking about _Friends_?" asked Shirley. "Bunch of skinny white people who sit around drinking coffee all day."

"I don't know!" cried Abed. "You all three made the same face a minute ago." He pointed at them accusingly. "Don't deny it. When you all make the same face like that, it means there's been some kind of cue I missed."

"I don't see why the afternoon class is such a prize, anyway," said Troy. "It's at the same time as my Advanced Seminars on Truth, Beauty and Freon class in the AC Repair Annex."

"You're taking a class called Advanced Seminars on Truth, Beauty and Freon?" asked Shirley.

"Actually I'm teaching it." Troy smiled bashfully. "On account of I'm, you know, their messiah."

"Ooh!" Britta snapped her fingers. "That's it! You get the AC Repair guys to get you all into the afternoon section with us! They can do that, I bet."

"What? No, I'm not going to ask them to do that. I'm teaching a class then."

"You can teach it any time, though."

"No, I can't, dummy," Troy replied. "It's the only block of time in the week that the hot tub isn't booked."

"There's a hot tub?" Britta looked incredulous.

"Who said hot tub?" Troy said quickly. "Nobody said there's a secret jacuzzi and sauna in the AC Repair Annex."

"C'mon," she whined. "Do you really want to get up at, like, five for a six AM class?"

"I get up at five every morning," said Troy.

"No. Really?" asked Britta.

"He does," Abed said, nodding. "And he's really cheerful, too. It's kind of disgusting. No offense," he added to Troy.

"None taken, buddy." Troy and Abed did their special handshake. "You could switch to the morning section," he said to Britta.

She laughed. "Yeah, I could… oh, you're serious. I'm not doing that."

Before Troy could respond, the dean called again for order. "I want to turn things over to your new Historiography professor. Wait, where's Jeffrey? We can't start without… ah." The dean nodded as Jeff slunk back into the classroom through the rear doors, stonefaced and without Annie.

"Well, without further ado, let me introduuuooouuu…" The dean began to mime a drumroll, and held the diphthong until a few students at the front of the room gamely beat their tabletops. "…Duce Doctor Winston Armitage, formerly of Yale!" The dean applauded furiously, and the class joined in. "Winston?" the dean called towards the open front door of the classroom.

"Doctor Armitage." The professor who sauntered into the classroom from the hall was the tweediest man any of them had ever seen. His corduroy jacket and tie appeared to have been the model for the dean's own outfit, and his profile wouldn't have looked out of place on the obverse of a coin. "Hello, students. I'm not certain I understand the pedagogical reasoning behind these theatrics, but I assure you there will be none in the actual course."

He glared at the dean.

"The syllabus is being passed around," Dr. Armitage continued. He gestured towards the dean, who had a stack of thick stapled packets. "Now, as it indicates, this is a writing-intensive course. Over the twelve weeks of class, you will be expected to write six papers. Nothing fancy there, just six to eight pages on one of the approved topics. Every day in class there will be a quiz over the previous lecture's material. The mid-term will be an in-room open-book exam, and for the final you will write an annotated bibliography. I ask students every year at the end of class what one piece of advice they'd give their younger selves who were just beginning, and the number one response each time is to start working on the bibliography immediately, because if you put it off until the last two weeks of classes you'll never finish in time. Now the breakdown of points is twenty percent quizzes, twenty-five percent… yes?"

"The, uh, there's, uh, not enough… syllabuses," said Garrett, who'd had his hand raised.

"There aren't enough syllabi?" repeated Dr. Armitage. "Hm. Are people only taking one each? There should be twenty-five, one for each person in the section."

"Both sections are here, Winston," the dean interjected.

"Both…?" Dr. Armitage shook his head. He counted students, shaking his head in annoyed disgust. "I'm only teaching one section. We agreed to this, Craig." He turned to the dean. "One section, no more than twenty-five students, and you stop catfishing my sister."

"Well, okay, I mean, firstly, what is catfishing, anyway?" The dean threw up his hands as Dr. Armitage kept scowling. "Right, yes. I have someone else teaching the other section. You're completely independent of each other."

As Armitage and the dean continued to argue, Jeff turned to the group. "Is everyone else hearing this?"

"Absolutely," said Abed. "It's a classic devil-you-know scenario. On the one hand, staying in Armitage's class will mean insane amounts of work and possibly failing. On the other, the other class meets in the middle of the night —"

"It's not the middle of the night, the middle of the night is 3:07 AM exactly," interrupted Troy. "You know that, measuring it was your idea."

Abed nodded, accepting the correction. "The other class meets very early and is made up, at this point, mostly of people whose names Jeff crossed out from the first section. So do we stay in Armitage's class —"

"Troy and I aren't in Armitage's class," Shirley pointed out.

"Or do we plunge into the unknown?" Abed pointed at each group member in turn. "Unknown? Unknown? Unknown?"

"Obviously we switch to the morning section," Jeff said wearily. "There's only eight people in it now, so that won't be a problem."

"You're only saying that because it's what Annie wants," Britta snapped. "I move we disregard Jeff's opinion entirely."

"I'm not just saying that for Annie's sake!" Jeff protested.

"You always do whatever she says." Britta turned to Abed, Troy, and Shirley for support.

"She's right, you do," said Shirley.

"You complain and refuse to do it, and then you do it," agreed Abed.

Troy nodded. "It was cute at first but it's played out now."

Jeff slapped the table in front of him in a call for order. "Listen, I'm not going to write papers for some freak of nature who actually wants to grade a hundred and fifty eight-page papers, three hundred quizzes, twenty-five exams, and twenty-five annotated bibliographies. I don't know what an annotated bibliography is, and I don't care to learn. I… don't… care… to learn," he repeated, emphasizing each word in turn. "Who's with me?"

"I'm in," Britta said immediately. "I don't want to learn, either."

Abed nodded.

"Well, again, Troy and I are already in the morning section," Shirley said. "So we only need to stay where we are, and your little drama doesn't affect us."

"Great," Jeff said. He rapped the table for emphasis. "So we're agreed."

"Jeff comes around and Annie gets exactly what she wants," said Britta. "There's a shocker."

"I… no. I'm not going to engage." Jeff closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"What if all the other students in the afternoon section decide they don't want to write three hundred papers either, though?" Britta asked no on in particular.

"I don't think that'll be a problem," Troy said, blanching slightly. "Look who Pierce just brought in." He pointed to the front of the room, where Pierce had led in the instructor for the morning section.

 _"Buenos dias, children!"_


	3. Mandatory Historiography Act 3

MANDATORY HISTORIOGRAPHY CREDIT FOR SENIORS NEEDING TO MEET DISTRIBUTION REQUIREMENTS

Act 3

* * *

"Let's all just calm down and take a good long look at the situation," the dean said. He sat behind his desk, trying not to cower as the study group loomed over him.

"Why would you hire Chang?" Annie asked him. In the twenty minutes since the 'class' had ended, she'd rejoined the group and been filled in on what she'd missed. "Chang! He tried to kill you!"

"He kept you prisoner in the basement for weeks!" said Britta.

"He faked his credentials!" said Troy.

"He's the father of Shirley's baby!" cried Pierce. He glanced around. "Isn't he? I kind of lost track."

"Oh, the black woman doesn't know who the father of her baby is? That's racist." Shirley wagged a finger at Pierce.

"Didn't you not —" Abed fell silent as Shirley stepped on his foot.

"Be that as it may," said the dean, "there are good reasons to bring Ben Chang back on the payroll."

"Name one!" Pierce bellowed.

The dean squinted at him. "It was your idea!"

Pierce shook his fist. "Not good enough! Wait." He looked thoughtful. "It was my idea, you're right. Sorry, fellas, I got a little carried away."

"The most important thing about the events of this past spring is that we never discuss them or deal with the ramifications or examine the logical developments that ought to emerge from such a drastic shake-up of the college's status quo," the dean explained. "We're just going to sweep it under the rug. We already swept is under the rug, actually, so this is just neglecting to clean under the rug, and who cleans under the rug? What's the point of that?"

"This does feel very contrived," Abed said.

"Contrived, fine, whatever Abed. The board of trustees voted, unanimously, that they did not have any cause to fire Chang from his position of as chief of security, because if they did then there'd have to be an investigation. Then I pointed out that Chang had tried to murder me and several other students, you guys," he gestured to the study group, "you know? And so Pierce here said that if he couldn't stay on in security, why not bring him back to the faculty? And here we are."

"He doesn't have a teaching certificate or a degree," Annie pointed out. "We've been over this."

"Oh no!" The dean's mouth made an O as he covered his cheeks with both hands. "One of Greendale's faculty lacks credentials? What a shock!" He lowered his hands. "Welcome to the real world, Annie. It's not all hot moody guys who moon over you and then deny it."

Annie looked flustered, but pressed on. "If the state board finds out about this, Greendale could lose its accreditation…"

"Exactly," said Pierce. "I remember why I wanted to cover Chang's crimes up, now. If we didn't keep him on staff he'd go leak it to the state board, and then Greendale would lose its accreditation. I don't think you want Greendale to lose its accreditation in your fourth year here, do you?"

"But this Historiography class…"

"I made it up! There's no such thing. I brought in my brother-in-law Winston to cover. Historiography," repeated the dean. "Is that even a word?"

"It is, yes." Annie did a double take. "Wait, you're married?"

"Kind of." The dean made a so-so gesture. "Little bit."

Annie and Jeff exchanged glances. "All that aside," Jeff said, "there's no way the six of us could be in a class with Chang teaching."

"He! Tried! To! Murder! Us!" shouted Britta.

"I know, I know, shut up," said Pierce. He chuckled in an avuncular manner. "Everybody signed the release form and liability waiver that I cunningly disguised as a sign-in sheet. And I'll be sitting in on his class to make sure that he abides by the terms of our agreement. Think of me as Chang's superior… no, that sounds racist… think of me as just better and more important than Chang. Eh? Eh? Yeah?"

"I want to change my answer from before about what constitutes an implausible contrivance," said Abed.

"It'll be fun! A nice relaxing six o'clock class… meeting up at the end of the day! We can all go out for drinks afterwards." Pierce threw an arm around Jeff, who straightened up in an unsuccessful attempt to slip free.

"It's six AM, not six PM, Pierce," said Annie.

"Oh, it… is it? Of course it is," said Pierce. "I meant, uh, energy drinks. Coffee? People still drink coffee, right?"

"Some people do," Shirley grumbled, shooting Jeff a look.

"Well, then, it sounds to me like we've resolved this issue," said the dean. He stood up from his chair. "Thank you so much for coming in and bringing these issues to my attention."

"Did you just stand up so we'd leave?" Britta asked him.

"Old management trick," Pierce observed to no one in particular.

"Did I just…" The dean turned and glanced at the chair behind him as if seeing it for the first time. "Huh. I, um, guess I must have. Did it not work?" He sat back down, then rose again. "How about now?"

* * *

The end of the day, off-campus at a bar. Annie sat alone at one table, course schedules and listings and transcripts spread out in front of her. Jeff found her there, and sat down at the table without saying anything.

Annie didn't look up. "Are you here to help, or do you want to break into the dean's office and change the student handbook so that you don't need a historiography credit to graduate? Or heck, why not just change the rules so that the credits you already have are enough to get you a diploma? Then you can get out of here right now and leave all this behind!"

"Annie, c'mon," Jeff said to her. "Be fair. We're on the same side, here."

"Are we? Are we really? Because I'm on the side of doing what it takes to get our degrees legitimately." She looked up at him, then quickly ducked her gaze back down to the papers in front of her.

"That's what I want, too. I mean, unlike you I don't go out of my way to make things harder for myself…" _You don't?_ a voice inside him asked. He ignored it. "But you know I don't want there to be any irregularities I have to explain away to the Colorado state bar."

"Uh huh," Annie grunted. "If you say so. You'll say whatever you need to, after all."

Jeff sagged in his seat. "Annie, that's not true."

"You were all 'we can just find some other free elective we can all take' and then you were like 'I don't have time to take another free elective,' blah blah blah." Annie worked a surprising amount of scorn into each _blah_. "That's what you sound like."

"I only said that because I'd put you and me on the list already. I…" He trailed off, struggling to find the words. "We were in the same section, you and me. That was the important part."

"Why is it important that you and I be in the same section? Is this all so you can copy my notes?"

There was a long pause before Jeff answered. "You remember the beginning of last year, when I wasn't in the Biology class with you and the rest of them?"

"You told Pierce that it didn't matter that he wasn't in the class, because we were all friends, and then that was revealed as a tissue of lies, or, no." Annie snapped her fingers. "A paper towel of deception spread across the spill of… I had a metaphor there, it's gone now."

"My point is that we _are_ all friends," Jeff insisted. "You're not going to suddenly lose Shirley. I've tried and failed to get rid of Pierce. You live with Troy and Abed, and Britta's… with Troy, so she's around for at least a couple of months until novelty of the sex wears off and they self-destruct."

"You know," Annie began, "relationships do sometimes work out…"

"No, they don't," Jeff replied. "Trust me. I've tried it. It seems great at first but then the little things add up and then you're fighting all the time, and, this is not a mistake I've made but I've seen it happen, you have a kid together because you think it'll bring you closer and instead it's just another thing to fight about and then you leave the mother of your son, a woman who once loved you and who can't stand you, good riddance she says, and…" He trailed off, then sighed. "We'll take this class together, whatever it ends up being, and you'll get an A+ and I'll get a B-. Next semester we take, I don't know, is there a second half?"

She nodded. "Mandatory Historiography Credit for Seniors Needing to Meet Distribution Requirements Part B."

"And then we'll graduate and you'll go on to become queen of the University of Colorado Hospital, or head of the FBI…" Jeff didn't notice the thoughtful look that crossed Annie's face. "And I'll start up a solo practice and probably bankrupt myself in six months, because 'no longer suspended by the bar association' isn't a great advertising slogan, and maybe someday if I'm lucky I'll bump into you in an airport bar sometime and you'll struggle to remember my name. In the meantime, let's just take a class together."

"You're kind of all over the place. We'll never get rid of Pierce and I live with Troy and Abed, but someday I'll forget your name in an airport? Are you just not capable of being straight with me?"

"I…" Jeff's response was cut off by Troy.

"There you guys are!"

Troy, Abed, Britta, Shirley, Pierce, and Chang filed into the room. "You were right, buddy," he told Abed. "They did move off-campus."

"It's the fourth and probably final season," Abed explained, "so there's room in the budget for a new set that emphasizes the cast's changing dynamics."

"So this is going to be our new hang-out spot?" Chang asked.

Pierce turned to him. "I told you to stop following us!"

"How long has he been back there?" Shirley asked, appalled.

"It's a free country!" Chang retorted. "Or do you think that just because I'm Chinese you can exclude me, like Chester A. Arthur when he signed the Chinese Exclusion Act in 1882?"

Everyone looked confused.

"Didn't think so!" Chang said triumphantly, and sat down at a table next to Jeff and Annie's.

The rest of the group settled in around their table. "Annie was about to explain what, exactly, historiography is," Jeff said.

Chang scooted his chair around. "That's great because I have no idea."


	4. Good Food Buymanship Act 1

"Good Food Buymanship" Act 1

* * *

Jeff pulled into the GCC parking lot about a minute and a half after the start of class. He turned his car off and sat there for a minute, just holding his coffee and staring off into the middle distance. He didn't notice Shirley until she had opened up the passenger side door and slid in next to him.

"Jeffrey, what the hell is the matter with you?" she demanded.

"Aren't you missing Chang's class?" he countered. "It's your chance to find out whether Annie can teach a class entirely by remote-control."

"When you didn't stop at Shirley's Sandwiches yesterday you said you were going to be there early today. I made you a damn egg white carb-free _thing_ that you know no one else is going to want. Now it's cold."

"You're painting a terrific word-picture, really getting my mouth watering," Jeff said, "but we don't have time."

Shirley held up the paper bag he hadn't noticed she was carrying. "There's a coffee in here too," she added, casting a baleful eye towards his Starbucks cup.

"Yeah, well, I'm on this new thing." Jeff glanced sideways towards the classroom building, wishing for once he were safely in Chang's lecture where no one could accost him with probing questions. "No lactose, so, soy lattes only for me." He shook the Starbucks cup in his hand, indicating the SOY scribbled on its side.

"This is soy," Shirley said flatly. "I can do soy. Why are you doing this?"

"I just…" Jeff swallowed, trying to come up with a plausible lie. "I just like empty, soulless corporatism more than your lovingly-crafted product. That's the kind of guy I am: empty, soulless, and corporate."

"That's not you." Shirley's eyes narrowed. "Is it a girl?"

Jeff sighed. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, it's a girl. There's this barista, Mandy. She's got red hair and she smiles when she says my name and it's pathetic but knowing that I can get her to smile at me for two ninety-five…" He shrugged.

"I don't believe you," Shirley snapped.

Jeff tensed up. Had she seen through his lie?

"You're a grown damn man and what you're describing is creepy as hell," she continued.

Jeff relaxed a bit. "I know. Hence my interest in not sharing it. But like a walking crowbar, you came in and pried the truth right out of me."

"I'd expect it from Pierce. You want that? You want me to compare you to Pierce?"

"No…"

"You're a perfectly fine man and there are plenty of people who would smile at you without money being involved. There are people who do!"

"Yes."

"If you don't…" Shirley broke off as she spotted Annie emerging from the classroom building, waving frantically. "We're not done here," she told Jeff as she opened the passenger door and exited his car. "Come on to class."

Jeff nodded and followed her up the short walk to the building entrance.

"Where you have you guys been?" Annie asked them as they passed through the glass entryway. "Pierce has been faking a heart attack to stall for time, and I don't think that's going to work a third time."

"I was running late." Jeff realized he'd left his textbook in his car, and debated whether he should go get it, or pretend to go get it and just drive away. He could try the day again from the top tomorrow. "Starbucks."

Annie rolled her eyes. "You can be really soulless and corporate, you know that? Shirley's Sandwiches is right here."

"That's what I told him," Shirley agreed as the three of them entered classroom. Chang and half the class were quietly sitting and playing with their phones, while the other half, including Troy and Britta, stood or squatted in a small crowd at the front of the room.

"…And then Monica tells Chandler that she doesn't like him when he's kissing up to his boss," Abed was saying. He sat cross-legged in the middle of the crowd. Pierce lay on his back before him, head in Abed's lap. "So when the boss comes back in and tells another stupid joke, Chandler doesn't fake-laugh. The boss doesn't like that, and starts to lean on Chandler, and then Monica breaks in and pretends to explain the joke and Chandler pretends he thinks it's funny."

"Ah, that makes sense," Pierce said. "Monica was the hot one, right?"

Abed shook his head. "No, that was Rachel. Monica was the neurotic overachiever who ended up with the irreverent joker."

"And hey, Pierce is talking again," said Chang.

Pierce sat up. "Vice-Chancellor Hawthorne," he said. "I've decided that's my job title. Vice-Chancellor."

"Why not full Chancellor?" Annie asked him.

"Whatever. Are we all ready to learn now?"

"I'm still pretty dizzy," said Pierce. "I think I need another episode of a sitcom summarized for me."

"Oh, do 'Homer at the Bat,'" suggested Troy. "That's my favorite. He does voices," he added to Britta.

"Actually I think we're all set," Jeff said. "Vice-Chancellor Hawthorne looks fine to me."

"This is no picnic for me either, you guys," Chang said as the class settled back into their seats and put down their phones. "Am I excited about being up this early? No. Am I qualified to teach this class? No. Do I even know what historiography is? No. Did I get a student to write my lesson plan for me? I did, yes, because unlike her, I have more important things to do."

"Hey!" cried Annie. Jeff glared at Chang.

"So show some respect, all right?" He cleared his throat. "I said show some respect!"

The students exchanged glances. "Yes, El Tigre Chino," they reluctantly chanted in ragged unison.

Pierce, sitting in the back of the class, chuckled. "Classic Chang."

"That concludes today's lesson," Chang said. "No. Hold on." He held up one finger. "I have an assignment for you that'll eat up some class time. You're going to work in pairs…"

Jeff and Annie exchanged meaningful glances. Britta tried to do the same with Troy, but he was already exchanging a meaningful glance with Abed, so she turned to Shirley instead.

"And put together a five-minute presentation," Chang continued. "Or, no, that's going to be hell to sit through. A three page paper. Wait. Maybe a diorama. Dioramas are easy to grade…" He trailed off, tapping his teeth with one finger thoughtfully. "Maybe just do an in-class exam, then you can grade one another's work…"

"Pick something!" called Pierce from the back, hands cupped in front of his mouth.

Chang scowled. "Fine! A paper, smart guy! Three pages. On, um, historiography, I guess."

Annie cleared her throat loudly. "Of?" she stage-whispered.

"Of, yeah, I know!" Chang snarled. "The historiography of, um, World War 2."

"'A particular battle from World War 2,'" Annie stage-whispered from the front row. "We practiced this!" she hissed.

"You're still helping him?" Jeff asked from next to her.

She grimaced, as though gearing up to defend her choice to continue helping a man who had tried to murder them and who was also a terrible, terrible teacher, in the name of improving the Greendale educational experience just a little bit. Then she saw that Jeff was smiling at her, and smiled back instead.

"A particular battle from World War II, yes, that's what I was trying to say. I'm the instructor here, not you!" Chang snapped at Annie. "You know what? I'm assigning the partners for this." The class erupted into irritated murmurs, to Chang's evident relish. "Winger, you're with…" He scanned the class. "Man, slim pickings. You, the slutty one by the window! What's your name?"

A dark-haired woman seated towards the back looked around, vainly hoping he meant someone else. "Me?" She pointed to herself warily. When Chang nodded impatiently, she winced. "Patricia Smelden. I don't really think that…"

"Don't care. Winger, you're with Patricia Snodden."

"Smelden, actually" she called.

"Don't care. You like that, Annie?" Chang had a manic gleam in his eye.

"No! I mean…" Annie gasped in indignation. "Why wouldn't I? I mean, why would I care?"

"'Ha ha,' he said sarcastically," Chang said. "You're with Leonard."

Leonard laughed in his seat. "How you like them apples?" he croaked.

"Now Ben, that doesn't really seem fair," Pierce began. "Annie deserves better. You can pair Leonard with Britta."

"All right, all right. Leonard with Britta. Winger with the slut…"

"That is really not cool!" cried Britta. Chang ignored her.

"Annie, you're with Shirley. Neil, you're with Abed. Vicky, you're with Garrett, you three whose names I haven't learned are with those three whose names I learned last year but forgot… and Troy, you're with… who haven't I picked yet?"

"Anyone but Todd, anyone but Todd," Troy whispered, his eyes screwed shut.

Todd was, however, the only student who raised a hand.

"The weird-looking guy! You're with Troy! Boom! Partners assigned! Chang out!" Chang whooped and shook his fist, then dashed out of the classroom.


	5. Good Food Buymanship Act 2

There were six Starbucks within a half-hour drive of the GCC campus, but the one that Jeff frequented was the one closest to his apartment. Shirley staked it out from across the street, at first from her parked car, and then, after she was asked to move her car or get a ticket, from the window of the nearby Ann Taylor. She wore sunglasses to conceal her identity, and a blue windbreaker. Every few minutes she scanned the Starbucks with binoculars, as though it might have undergone some change invisible to her unaided eye.

"Can I help you find anything?" one of the Ann Taylor clerks asked, for the fifth or sixth time.

Shirley ignored her, so Annie, who had reluctantly come along, stepped in. "We're still just browsing, thanks," Annie told her. She had declined the blue windbreaker, and taken off her sunglasses indoors.

"Uh huh." The clerk did not pretend very hard to believe her.

"Yup." Annie nodded. "Wow, look at this… belt," she said, fingering the closest item on sale.

"That's nice," said Shirley without taking her eyes off the Starbucks.

"It's been twenty minutes," Annie said once the clerk had moved away. "How long are we going to keep standing here? We don't exactly look like the kind of upwardly mobile, professional business woman who shops at Ann Taylor. Yes, we're always on the lookout for great deals, and yes, Ann Taylor does combine chic high fashion with the kind of quality manufacture that's hard to find for such reasonable prices, but come on. We're community college students."

"First of all," said Shirley, "Ann Taylor's new line for this autumn is based around a peach shade that, even with our dramatically different complexions, we both look great in. Secondly, the financing options provided by the Ann Taylor Mastercard bring even the finest garments into any woman's price range."

Annie nodded, conceding the points.

"Thirdly, Jeff Winger is going to appear at any moment, mark my words, and then we'll see just what the man's problem is. Crazy lactose-intolerant fool."

"I'm sure he was telling you the truth. When we left campus," Annie muttered, "you said Jeff needed some help and did I want to lend a hand."

"He needs help wising up!" Shirley scanned the Starbucks again.

"Maybe he just enjoys Starbucks's seasonal offerings, like the delicious Pumpkin Spice latte. When I want a treat that reminds me it's autumn, I reach for a Pumpkin Spice latte, perhaps with a jack-o-lantern-shaped sugar cookie."

Shirley lowered her binoculars to glare at Annie. "Shirley's Sandwiches sells cookies too, you know."

"Yes but… oh! There he is!" Annie pointed through the window.

"Be cool!" Shirley squinted at Jeff through the binoculars. Across the street, he opened the door for the woman he'd been paired with in Historiography class. "He's got that trashy girl with him!"

"Patricia. You know, the only evidence anyone has that she's trashy is Chang's word." Annie peered through the window, shading her eyes from the glare with one hand. "Although she did just touch Jeff's arm for no reason."

"They're ordering," Shirley announced. "Paying separately…"

"Good," Annie muttered to herself.

"What?" Shirley asked her.

"What?" Annie repeated, and looked confused, until Shirley turned back to the window.

A moment later, she lowered her binoculars again. "I don't believe it. That man is a liar!" She took a step towards the Ann Taylor door, intent on confronting him, but Annie held her back.

"What? Jeff's just getting coffee. He isn't even complimenting that woman's sweater or smiling at her." Annie squinted over Shirley's shoulder, at the Starbucks. "I don't think he is."

"It's not her I'm talking about, it's him!" Shirley jabbed a finger towards the window. "The old man!"

Annie sighed. "Okay, I know Jeff is like twelve or fourteen years older than, um, Troy and Abed and me, on average, about… but he's not…"

Shirley grunted in frustration, and pushed past Annie, shaking her head and cursing. She stomped across the street, heedless of traffic, and into the Starbucks. "Jeff Winger!" she roared.

Jeff and the woman — Patricia — turned in surprise. They stood a few feet apart at the pickup station, waiting for their drinks.

"Red hair? Chesty? Green apron?" Shirley pointed to the lone employee manning the store, a balding man in his late 50s or 60s.

"Yeah, one minute." Jeff already had his phone out. Instead of answering Shirley, he began quickly texting someone.

"Oh, don't make like you have someone to text," Shirley bellowed. "You don't have anyone to text!" She stomped up to Jeff and pulled the phone out of his hand. "'Starburns on Henderson, Shirley going crazy, please send a rescue dog,'" she read.

"Starburns is an Autocorrect error," Jeff said.

"Patty!" cried the man behind the counter, holding a cup.

Anxious smile fixed in place, Patricia took the cup from him without looking away from Shirley. "I really need to get going," she said to Jeff. "We can talk about the paper later. Or, hey, I could just do the whole thing myself how about? That sounds easiest for everybody. You and your girlfriend can work out this, whatever." She fled out the Starbucks entrance, nearly colliding with Annie, who was entering.

"She's not my girlfriend!" Jeff called out.

Annie turned and glanced at the escaping Patricia. "I know she's not your girlfriend," she said to Jeff. "I was there this morning when you met. Even if you did want to sleep with her, which would be none of my business…"

"Not her!" Shirley interrupted. "This is about him!" She pointed at the man behind the counter. "You said that you came to this Starbucks because of a red-haired barista named Mandy —" She ignored Annie's squeak of indignation, matched to Jeff's pained expression. "And now I see it's this geezer!"

"There's no need to be hateful," said the Starbucks worker. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave, if you can't be a little quieter."

"Can it, no-hair!" Shirley snapped. She grabbed at a display of seasonal flavored coffees, pulling it down and spilling Starbucks-branded single-serving coffee packets across the floor.

* * *

Meanwhile, back on campus, Troy and Todd met in the study room to work on their paper. Todd sank into the seat nearest Troy, who glared at him.

"You're in Abed's seat," Troy told him. "You should sit over there, between Jeff and Annie." He pointed to a chair on the opposite end of the table. "Nobody sits there, for obvious reasons."

"I don't…" Todd looked around. "There's no one else here. Can't I sit anywhere?"

"You only ever think about yourself, huh Todd?"

Blistered by Troy's glare, Todd stood and walked around the table, sitting the seat between Jeff's and Annie's usual chairs. "Man, this takes me back," he said. "Heh, remember last year, and Biology class, and…?"

"Yeah, I had to retake Biology class because of you, Todd." Troy scowled, then softened slightly. "Well, actually I didn't. I signed up to, but then the AC Repair Annex guys got me a bye. But if I wasn't their messiah, I'd have had to have re-learned all that stuff about photosynthesis and homeostasis and amniocentesis and riboflavin facts."

"I don't remember riboflavin…" began Todd.

"You might know it as Vitamin B2," snapped Troy. "You see? That's just the kind of thing I almost had to relearn because of you, but not really."

"Listen, Troy, I just want to get through this paper," Todd said. He dug through his backpack. "I barely know what historiography is, so… that's probably going to become a problem at some point during the course. I need to get a good grade on this, so I can pass the class and graduate on time."

"There you go again! Lording your on-time graduation plan, like you can't believe anyone else is smart enough to graduate in five years like a normal person!"

"Four years, you mean?" Todd slid his historiography textbook onto the study room table between them.

"We can't all skip years like you, Todd!" Troy slammed his own textbook onto the table. "Let's just get this over with."

"Okay, so, uh…" Todd drummed his fingers. "So our topic is, 'the Historiography of the Battle of the Midway,' and we need a thousand words, so…" He broke off with a start, when Britta stormed into the room.

"All right, Todd, get out," she told him without preamble. "We're switching partners."

"Oh, thank God you're here," Troy told her. "You would not believe how he's been driving me crazy. It's all riboflavin this and historiography that with this guy."

"I don't think we're allowed to switch partners," Todd protested. "Professor Chang seemed really intent on assigning us."

Britta scoffed. "He's Chang; he's probably distracted chasing a soap bubble by now and forgotten all about it. You're with Leonard." She tilted her head behind her, then turned and called through the open doorway. "Leonard!"

"Keep your damn pants on," Leonard grumbled as he shuffled into the study room. "Nobody but your idiot boyfriend here wants to see that." He snickered at his own wit.

"Oh, shut up Leonard. Greendale is hell, I'm the devil, and you've been dead for thirty years!" Britta cried.

"Whoa, seriously?" Troy asked her. "I knew it! Well, I suspected."

"You're horrible people and you deserve each other!" Todd folded his arms. "But I'm not switching partners. I don't want to get in trouble. It wouldn't be right."

"Live a little, boy-o," Leonard told him.

"What if Britta did your half of the paper with Leonard, would you swap with her then?" Troy asked.

"So I'd just be signing my name to her work?" Todd considered. "It's hard to see a moral objection to that…"

"I object on moral grounds," Britta said. "I don't want to do two papers!"

"Okay, okay, we'll both do them both together. Easy as pie." Troy grinned. "It's gotta be like, making two pies is almost as easy as making one pie, you just do all the steps twice."

"Sounds good to me," said Leonard. "You just make sure it has my name on it." He chuckled to himself and left.

"Then we're all agreed, Britta will do two papers."

Britta frowned.

"I'll help." Troy clapped his hands together. "We'd better get to work, partner."

Todd rose from his seat and backed, slowly and carefully, out through the study room door. He nearly collided with Abed, who stomped into the room, Neil on his heels.

"Troy!" Abed barked. "Tell Neil that Third Edition, three point five, is the best version of Dungeons & Dragons." He spun around to address Neil. "It is the best edition."

"It's got a lot of great supplements, sure," Neil agreed. He sounded like a man going out of his way to be reasonable. "I'm not saying it doesn't. I just think that the fourth edition's more coherent design works a lot better than people give it credit for."

"Fourth edition," Abed repeated. "Fourth edition is just a video game on paper. Sure, the combat system is streamlined and yes, different character types are closer together in their power levels, but where's the soul? Fourth edition doesn't even have a Profession (Fisherman) skill!"

"Why do you need to know how good your barbarian is at net-fishing? Why does that need to be mathematically modeled?"

"It's like jazz," Abed said. "If you have to ask, you'll never know. Fourth edition characters don't even roll for hit points; the game's dumbed down to an insulting level. Plus they're all like Wolverine: cut their arms and legs off, slice up their livers, whatever, as long as they get a good night's sleep they're totally fresh and ready to go in the morning."

"Oh, come on!" Neil raised his voice. "Characters in 3.5 are the exact same way, it just takes a week or so of bedrest for them to recover from their crippling injuries. If you want an injury model that's even remotely realistic you have to go back to first edition, which nobody does…"

"Because first edition is an unplayable mess," Abed and Neil said in unison. Britta shot Troy a questioning look; he shook his head, indicating he was as baffled as she was.

"But that doesn't make fourth edition better," Abed continued. "Tell him, Troy."

Troy blinked. "Sorry, buddy, what are we talking about? Dungeons and Dragons? I don't... Do you…?" He turned to Britta, who shrugged. "I can't really help you, buddy. Neil sounds like he makes good points, but that might just be because of his melodious voice."

Neil looked pleased, but Abed looked pained. "Britta! Try to look past your ill-conceived ideas as to what constitutes fun. Don't you think that third edition, or three point five, is objectively better than fourth?"

"No, because like all women, I have no opinions whatsoever about Dungeons and Dragons," Britta snapped.

"Sexist!" Neil sounded appalled. "Sexist and demonstrably untrue! My girlfriend plays D&D. And she likes it!"

Britta reached out and covered Neil's hand with her own. "I don't know your girlfriend, but I'm positive that's not true."

Neil drew back. "You've known Vicky since freshman year!" He shook his head. "You guys."

Troy shrugged. "Hey, Abed's our friend. And being Abed's friend means supporting him wholeheartedly, no matter what his plans are, or how crazy they sound."

"Sorry Neil," said Abed. He didn't sound particularly sorry. "Obviously I win the argument three votes to one. You can go now. Troy and I will do our paper."

"What?" Britta shook her head no.

"Britta and Troy and I will do our paper," Abed said.

"I…" Neil squinted at Abed. "What?"

"That's what we were arguing over, wasn't it?"

"Was it?"

Abed arched an eyebrow. "Wasn't it, though? Deep down?"\

"…No?"

Britta cleared her throat. "I think you and Neil should do your own paper," she said. "Troy and I are already doing two."

"Hey, now!" Troy arched an eyebrow. "What did I just say? We always support Abed."

"Okay then," Neil said. He turned and fled, before anyone could stop him.

"Well, that's great," Britta said with a sigh.

Abed shrugged. "Great that he's leaving? Maybe. I like Neil. He could have been an interesting addition to our dynamic, except for his wrong opinions about Dungeons and Dragons."

"You could run after him," Britta suggested. "Ooh!" Her eyes widened and she bolted upright in her chair. "You could get a boombox and hold it over your head outside his apartment! Yes! Go, Abed, go in the name of love!" She elbowed Troy.

"I like it?" offered Troy.

"Enh." Abed shook his head. "I can really only get away with referencing _Say Anything_ once. I don't want to waste it. What if I run through the rain to Neil's apartment, and I hold the boombox up, and we reconcile, and then I meet Brie Larson or Mary Elizabeth Winstead or Anna Kendrick or Aubrey Plaza?"

"Then you could reference _Scott Pilgrim_! See?" Britta turned to Troy. "Just because I don't get _Inspector Spacetime_ … "

"You could reference _Scott Pilgrim_ or not, it's your call," Troy assured Abed. "The important thing is we support you either way, buddy. Always."

"Well, not always, right?" Britta laughed. "I mean, there are some situations where we wouldn't support Abed. Like, if you went crazy or something," Britta said. She gestured vaguely at her chin. "Evil beard."

"Ignore her. We'll always support you. _Always_ ," Troy repeated.

"She just wants me to leave so you can make out." Abed rose to his feet. "I'm not going to go after Neil, but as a favor to Britta, I am going to go home and watch _Scott Pilgrim_ while eating buttered noodles."

"Thanks, buddy! You see?" Troy turned to Britta. "Everybody wins."

"Did you just say 'ignore her?'" Britta asked Troy as Abed left.

He shifted in his seat. "I don't know, a lot of people were saying stuff… on the bright side, we got rid of everybody."

"We just have to do three papers. Yours, mine, and Abed's." Britta slouched in her seat. "Is this going to be recurring theme in our relationship?"

"Maybe," Troy admitted. He rubbed the back of his neck guiltily.

"I don't wanna do three papers," Britta whined. "I don't wanna do one paper. Why do we have to be the grownups? Can't we just go make out and maybe, you know, smoke stuff?"

"Hams? You want to smoke some hams?" Troy leaned in, interested.


	6. Good Food Buymanship Act 3

A/N: To repair a continuity error with a later chapter, one line of this installment has been altered from what was originally published. See if you can guess which one!

* * *

Annie had to get to another class, so Jeff was alone when he picked Shirley up from the police station. "Banned for life from Starbucks. As your attorney I have to say we got a pretty good deal, no assault charges."

"Oh, that's nice. I wasn't sure I'd be able to explain that to Andre," Shirley said as she walked with him out to his car.

Jeff nodded. "But that lifetime ban has got to sting. You won't be able to enjoy seasonal lattes like the eggnog and peppermint mocha at Christmastime. And the superior in-store wireless network, free to all Starbucks customers, is likewise closed to you."

"I don't blame Starbucks," Shirley said. "Much like the excellent people at Ann Taylor, the employees at Starbucks were only doing their job when they called the cops on me. People should feel safe when they're drinking their cappucinos and such." She frowned. "I'm going to be getting home late, though. Can you give me a ride back to my house?"

"Sure," Jeff said as he unlocked his car. "You want me to cover for you with Andre?"

Shirley scoffed. "Of course not. We don't lie to one another."

Jeff got into his car. "Didn't he cheat on you with a stripper?"

"Yes, but when I asked him about it, he told me the truth." Shirley climbed into the passenger seat.

They sat in silence while Jeff pulled out of the lot.

"Coming back from that was hard," Shirley said, after a few moments. "We've been doing couples counseling, I think just because he wants to show me he's trying. Honesty isn't the only thing, but it's the first thing."

"Okay, okay." Jeff scowled behind the wheel. "I'm sorry I lied to you about why I was going to the Starbucks."

Shirley grunted.

"And you're probably wondering why I wasn't seducing the woman from Chang's class," he continued.

She gave him a sidelong glance. "Not really. I thought that one was pretty obvious."

"She was not out of my league!" Jeff said. "You've seen some of the women I've slept with, they…" He trailed off. He knew that hadn't been what she meant, but that wasn't a conversation he felt up for. "Whatever. I hope you and Andre work it out."

Shirley smiled to herself. "Not every relationship fails. If you keep working at it…"

"Maybe." Jeff drove in silence for a few more seconds. "Are your parents still together?" he asked her, suddenly curious.

Shirley shook her head. "My daddy went to Jesus… oh, six years ago now. He got to see Elijah, and Jordan, though. I wish Benjamin could have met him."

"Yeah. My parents divorced. Annie's parents divorced," Jeff said, as though to himself. "So did Abed's," he added. "Pierce has been married six times, and Britta's not exactly…" He trailed off. "Being a good person means trying to make the people around you happy, right? Making the choices that are best for them."

"Maybe." Shirley's tone was cautious, as though she wasn't sure how far she should go with Jeff down this particular road.

There was another companionable silence, one that lasted until Jeff pulled up in front of Shirley's house.

"Mom's in the hospital," Jeff said as he came to a stop.

Shirley gasped. "Jeffrey!"

"Some kind of cardiac thing. I can't get a straight answer out of anyone, but it's not looking great." Jeff stared forward. "I've been going to Starbucks instead of Shirley's Sandwiches because when the barista at Starbucks asks me how it's going, and I say I'm fine, they believe me."

"Jeffrey…"

"I was at your shop the other day, and I could smell the coffee and the bacon you were frying, and it made me think of when I was six years old, and she… If you asked me how I was doing, right then, I'd have…" His voice cracked, and he let out a ragged sigh. "I start talking about that to a friend, to someone who I love, I guess, and especially if you've just made me a sandwich or you're talking about your kids…" He had his hands up around his eyes now. He might have been crying, Shirley couldn't tell. "I know, it's a stupid reason to be avoiding your store. I mostly try not to think about it. Think about scotch and law and… redheads, instead."

"We all care about you, Jeffrey. You're surrounded by people you can talk to about this; you don't have to bottle it all up inside." Shirley glanced at her house. Someone, undoubtedly Andre, was standing behind the picture window in the darkened living room, looking out at Jeff's car and wondering why it was idling there. "You should come in for dinner," she told Jeff. "It's no trouble."

He hesitated, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. She added "Annie's coming over after, to work on our paper," which she knew was a gamble. It paid off, though; he killed the car's engine and went inside with her.

* * *

Roughly thirty feet directly below the study room, Britta and Troy lay in the semidarkness and enjoyed the sensations of water and motion and bubbles. Eventually, though, Britta sat up and flicked a light on. "What time is it?"

Troy looked around for a clock, didn't see one. "Time to get some dinner?"

Britta searched through the pile of her clothes and found her phone. "Jeez! It's almost ten. Did we fall asleep?" She examined her hands, trying to judge how pruney they were.

"I don't think so." Troy gripped her by the shoulder and tried to pull her back down into the water, but she slipped away with a giggle.

"We have got to get going," she urged him, climbing up onto the dry tile floor.

He laughed. "All right, all right."

"Well, that was… wow." Britta fumbled to get her top back on. "I should complain about you telling Abed to ignore me more, I guess…" She looked around the small white room. Dominated by the whirlpool tub, it was clean and white and looked like it belonged in a luxury spa. The air was fresh and well-circulated. "I didn't know this building had a sub-basement. And I definitely didn't know that the sub-basement had a jacuzzi pool."

Troy smiled as he ran his hand along her back. "You know this campus has eight jacuzzi pools? All in the custodial and ventilation areas. Vice-Dean Layborne was a big fan of them, and the tile & grouting guys are part of the AC Repair Annex, just like the plumbers. I'm trying to decide whether to convert them all to planters or something, or just tell the dean about them. Right now Hot Tubs 305 is just Professor Lindstrom lecturing students about his vacations in Sicily."

"I was wait-listed for that class," Britta mused. "So we definitely get some food, and then…" She clapped her hand to her forehead, remembering. "We have to write three papers! Do you think Chang would notice if two of them were photocopies?"

"Not a problem," Troy assured her as he pulled on his pants. "You forget, I am the Truest Repairman."

"So?"

Instead of answering her, Troy opened a metal cabinet set into the wall. It appeared to be empty. He closed it again, then banged his fist twice against the door. After a moment, an answering _bang bang_ echoed from somewhere nearby in the sub-basement. Grinning, Troy opened the cabinet. "Ta-da!" he sang, pointing at the stack of stapled packets that had appeared within.

"Is that…?" Britta stared at Troy, somewhat in awe.

"Three historiography papers. Don't ask me what they're about or what they are, even, I just know they're here." He picked one up. "See? Even got the right names on them."

Wide-eyed, Britta took one of the papers. "You got the AC guys to do this?"

"I know what you're going to say: it's taking advantage of the system, and it's cheating, and stuff," Troy admitted.

"I wasn't going to say any of that," said Britta. "I'm all for honesty and junk, but this is for Chang's made-up class about a made-up thing."

"Exactly my thinking," Troy said. He leaned over and kissed Britta on the back of her neck.

She sighed happily. "Mmmm…"

He pulled away . "Now let's get back to the apartment and check on Abed." Troy was already halfway out the door by the time Britta realized he was no longer kissing her. "If we run out of Starbucks Frappucino chilled coffee drinks, now available in convenient twelve-packs, Abed throws a fit."

* * *

Dinner was the home-cookingiest meal Jeff had eaten in a long time: meatloaf, with mashed potatoes, garden salad, and a slice of pumpkin pie for dessert. Andre accepted that Shirley had invited him over last-minute with good humor. After dinner, while he did the dishes in the kitchen, he offered Jeff a beer.

"I'm good, thanks," Jeff said. "So how's the stereo game going?"

"Not great," Andre said frankly. "People just aren't buying hi-fis the way they used to when we were kids. We actually closed down a couple months ago. It wasn't worth trying to keep it afloat."

"Really?" Jeff asked, nonplussed by Andre's tone. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Andre shrugged. "It's fine. We had a good run. I was pretty upset about it six months ago — things were looking pretty bleak for a while there, before Shirley's Sandwiches. But as it is, I'm splitting my time between child care and the sandwich shop."

"I didn't realize you worked at the lunch counter — man, I'm out of the loop."

"Heh. I'm only over there a couple of afternoons a week. It's Shirley's passion, and I've got to support her. We're a team." Noticing Jeff's pensive look, Andre continued. "When you're with the right partner you can do anything. Woman like that is worth fighting for."

"Yeah." Jeff nodded distantly. "I don't know how you manage three kids," he said, changing the subject.

"Well, like I just said," Andre replied. "It's a team effort. Everything is. Somebody's got to be here while Shirley is making dioramas or winning dance contests or all the weird-ass Greendale nonsense you guys get into. Otherwise the government comes in and takes your kids away, or so I'm told."

Jeff chuckled politely. "Still and all," he said, "I can't imagine pulling it off the way you two do."

Andre raised an eyebrow. "No? Well, maybe you haven't met the right woman. Though I hear that isn't an issue."

Jeff blinked in surprise. What had Shirley been telling him? He was spared having to formulate a response, however, when the doorbell rang."

Shirley's voice wafted in from the dining room. "That'll be Annie — someone get the door, please?"

"Speaking of," Andre said wryly. "I've got my hands full with these dishes. Would you mind?"

Jeff smiled a fixed smile — clearly Shirley had indeed been telling Andre tales out of school — but went to answer the door.

It was, as predicted, Annie. She smiled when she saw Jeff, but then, she had already been smiling. "Hey, you," she said, stepping close for a brief hug before Jeff could react. "Shirley said you got her out of jail, all lawyer-style."

"Well, I'm a pretty bad lawyer, so I asked to be paid in meatloaf," he responded, beckoning her into the house. He realized he'd grinned like an idiot when she smiled at him, and with some effort returned his face to a neutral expression.

"Hello Annie!" Shirley called from the dining room. "I'm all set up in here."

"Be with you in a minute!" Annie called back, then she turned to Jeff. "I never got a chance to ask, what was up with you going to the Starbucks? I feel like I'm missing out, not knowing."

"It's a long story," Jeff said cautiously. Seeing her eyes narrow, he found himself explaining. "My mother's in the hospital, and I make weird choices."

"Oh! Is it serious?" Annie asked, her mouth an O of concern. Absently she stroked Jeff's bicep. "Would she appreciate visitors?"

"It's probably nothing. I don't mean to be mysterious. She had a mild heart attack, apparently. More a scare than anything, but they're keeping her in observation for as long as her insurance will allow, and she's got good insurance, so…"

Annie nodded slowly. "Is that a yes or no on visitors? Where is she? Saint Luke's? Or is she at one of the medical centers? She should avoid Martindale, their cardiology department is rated below the Denver metro area average. I'm a hospital administration major, remember?"

Jeff had a sudden vision. Annie hauling armloads of balloons and flowers into his mother's hospital room. Jeff's mother lighting up when she discovered that she'd finally met the elusive Annie Edison Jeff had made the mistake of telling her about. Annie discovering that she was the only one of Jeff's friends whose name his mother knew. Annie berating him about that. Jeff's mother and Annie teaming up to berate him with twice the efficiency and potency. Jeff's mother asking Annie inappropriate questions about grandchildren and otherwise meddling in his life. Annie angered or hurt by the tone of her questions. "She's really not much for visitors," he said.

"Hmm." Annie had a gleam in her eye that Jeff recognized — it was her I know what Jeff should be doing gleam. "When did you see her last?"

"The day before yesterday," he said wearily, because he knew there was no escaping it.

"And when is she going home? Do you know?"

"Friday, probably."

"So you're going to go see her tomorrow."

"Annie —"

"You're going to go see her tomorrow, Jeff," Annie repeated.

"I am, yeah," he agreed, because it was the path of least resistance.

She looked at him a moment, eyes narrowed. "Well, good." Then her expression softened and he was grinning again and it occurred to him, not for the first time that day, how pleasant it would be if he were kissing Annie Edison.

Then, because he knew she was about to offer to accompany him, and if she did he wasn't going to be able to make himself say no, he took a step backwards and tilted his head towards the dining room. "You should…"

Annie blinked, as though she'd forgotten she came to Shirley's house for a reason other than to check up on Jeff. "Oh, right."

On cue, Shirley called from the dining room. "What are you two doing over there?"

"Nothing!" Jeff and Annie said in unison.

* * *

A week later Chang handed back the papers. "You all did awful. I blame myself for thinking that any of you were capable of learning. You embarrassed me in front of someone I care about: myself. Britta, Leonard, Neil, Abed, Troy, and you with the hair." Chang pointed at Todd. "I'm going to need you to redo the assignment and this time, actually complete it. Don't just copy and paste from Wikipedia. At the very least, delete _courtesy Wikipedia the encyclopedia anyone can edit_ from the bottom of each page. If you're going to cheat, people," he continued, raising his voice to address the entire class, "use a little tact. Think about what you're doing! I don't want to know you're cheating. You need to… what? _Conceal_. Conceal the cheating from me. Let me hear a 'yes, el Tigre Chino.'"

"Yes, el Tigre Chino," the class chanted in ragged and halfhearted unison, as Changed wave his arms like a conductor.

"All right then. The rest of you did a marginally better job at hiding your contempt for me, so you all get As. And, uh, you other people, you redo the assignment and you get Cs." Chang looked confused for a moment. "Wait, crap. I lost my train of thought. Who's in which group?"

"Nobody tell him!" called out Troy. "I don't want to have to learn anything!"

In the back of the class Patricia Smelden apologized to Jeff. "I know I hardly did any of it. I hate to have stuck you with all the work."

"It was no problem, actually. I ended up doing it with some friends," he said.

She nodded. "Your stalker girlfriend from the Starbucks?"

Jeff blinked in confusion. "She wasn't stalking, I texted… oh, Shirley," he said, as understanding dawned. He chuckled. "Shirley is, uh, not my girlfriend. She's married."

"Well, that doesn't necessarily mean anything." Patricia winked at him. "But it is good to know. I thought maybe I could make it up to you, somehow…"

"Heh heh." Jeff tried to remember being a guy who'd go for that. He cast about for a distraction. Turning away from Patricia, he glanced at Troy, trying to convince Britta to join him and Abed in a hot tub.

"Dreamatorium hot tub," Jeff interjected, turning away from Patricia Smelden. "That sounds extra sad."

"It's not in the Dreamatorium!" Troy protested. "We took the Dreamatorium down. It's — ow!"

"Britta just stomped on Troy's foot," Abed announced. He winced. "And just now she stomped on mine."

Jeff shook his head. "Never mind."


	7. Perspectives on the Renaissance Act 1

A/N: Special thanks to Amrywiol for beta-reading this chapter and offering several extremely helpful insights!

* * *

Come, ye lords and ladies, fair visitors to this our lovely faire! Huzzah! Watch and listen to our play, as we poor players strut across the stage for your amusement.

Huzzah!

Once upon a time there were two princesses, two princes, a Flemish crossdresser, a starship captain, and an attorney who was far too cool to dress up in a silly costume. They were all the best of friends! Well, the two princes were the very very best of friends. One of the princes was sleeping with the Flemish crossdresser, and one of the princesses and the attorney were constantly making eyes at one another, even though the attorney and the Flemish crossdresser had once carried on a furtive and ultimately unsatisfying affair. Also the princess who made eyes at the attorney occasionally sparked a bit off the prince who wasn't sleeping with the Flemish crossdresser. Theirs was was a complex network of relationships which, as you may have already noticed, excluded the second princess and the starship captain.

Even if you hadn't, the second princess and the starship captain _definitely_ noticed. Though they worked actively to engage with the social lives of the first princess, the two princes, the Flemish crossdresser, and the attorney, the second princess and the starship captain often found themselves pushed to the edges of whatever quiet melodrama was playing out among the others. In hopes, perhaps, of establishing themselves as possessing identities beyond merely the colorful friends of the first princess and the attorney and the rest, the second princess and the starship captain went into business together, with the starship captain funding the second princess's longtime dream of operating a bakery and lunch counter.

As a business, the lunch counter was marginally successful. As an attempt to anchor the second princess and the starship captain more fully within a narrative that was sometimes threatened with being completely overwhelmed by the romantic tensions between the attorney and the first princess (and to a lesser extent the two princes and the Flemish crossdresser), the lunch counter was likewise marginally successful. Certainly it gave the second princess and the starship captain plenty to argue about!

* * *

"Pierce, you're being ridiculous!"

"I'm being ridiculous? Me?" Pierce glared at Shirley, and thrust his thumb towards his chest. "I'm the one being ridiculous?"

"That's what I just said, fool." Shirley scowled back at him, giving him the side-eye despite being over a foot shorter than the older man. "You're picking a fight you're not gonna win." She shook her head. "Also, quit staring at my chest."

Pierce smiled a tight and mirthless smile. "Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but you're wearing a bodice. You've got your, your ladies right on display."

Shirley's jaw dropped. "This is an authentic costume!" Technically this was an exaggeration; the skirt and blouse were both from her church's donation bin. But they looked close enough, and she'd sewed the bodice and hat herself using a pattern she'd had to buy from an absurdly expensive website where a bony white lady sold handmade Renaissance Faire garb.

Pierce, of course, was in jeans. "Well, it's not my fault women in the Middle Ages all dressed like streetwalkers, is it? Also, if you're going to be authentic to the period, should you even be wearing that, and not…"

"Oh, no!" Shirley bridled. "I'm gonna cut you off right there, because I don't want to have to cut something off you. You are speaking from a place of ignorance! I usually ignore your damn hate-crime-talk, but today I don't have the patience. Don't test me! Don't you test me!"

He slowed down long enough for her to get a bit of lead on him. "I'm testing you? Me? I'm the one testing you?"

The two of them had car-pooled to the Faire for reasons that escaped Shirley at the moment. On the trip over Pierce had been civil, at least, until she'd told him that no, she wasn't going to make vegan peanut butter cookies with cocoanut oil. Vegan peanut butter cookies with cocoanut oil sounded terrible. Vegan peanut butter cookies with cocoanut oil would tarnish the Shirley's Sandwiches brand. Since their opening over a month ago now, Shirley's Sandwiches had become known for two things — delicious sandwiches, and delicious cookies. Not delicious sandwiches and terrible hippie-granola cookies, she'd explained to her "silent" partner.

Shirley spotted Jeff with Annie up ahead, at the edge of a large roped-off area. She made a face: like Pierce, Jeff was apparently too cool to costume up for the Faire, and wore a blue button-down with chinos. "Jeffrey!" she called as she approached. "I need you to lawyer for me!"

Jeff had been leaning against a post and making fun of the knights setting up for the rapier fencing. "Far be it from me to question their commitment to historical accuracy, but did they have plastic face shields and safety caps in the fourteenth century?"

Annie smiled. "Be nice. It's an actual sport, you know." She wore a gown with elaborate gold embroidery, and a bemused expression.

"Yeah, yeah, but this isn't sport fencing, this is…" Jeff gestured dismissively towards the enthusiasts. "I don't know what this is. What do you call these guys? You don't call them fencers."

Annie rolled her eyes. "Hobbyists, enthusiasts, Scadians…"

"Scadians?"

"The Society for Creative Anachronism, founded 1966. Have you never been to a renfair before?" she asked Jeff.

He shook his head. "I was busy not hand-sewing imitation tabards and making swords out of broomhandles."

She sighed. "They don't…"

"There." Jeff pointed. "See that? Over on the haybale. That is a broomhandle."

"Well, I'm sure it's just for practicing." Annie peered at the distant object. "I used to go to the Faire every year when I was a kid. My parents would take me, or my Aunt Lelia. I thought the knights were so…"

Jeff shot her a suspicious glance as she took a deep breath and trailed off, a slight smile playing across her face.

"Jeffrey!" Shirley called again.

He cleared his throat. "She's using the angry voice," Jeff observed to Annie. "You know what that means. Three… two…"

"Jeffrey! I need you to lawyer for me first!" cried Pierce from behind Shirley.

"Yeah, yeah, calm down before everybody wants some," Jeff said, making a 'quiet down' gesture. "What new argument have you discovered? Or is it one of the old ones over again?"

Annie elbowed him.

"Okay, yes, thank you," Jeff told her. He cleared his throat. "Before I say anything else, for the record, we all understand that I am not technically a lawyer until the bar association reinstates me, which hopefully they'll do in eight months, so I'm not about to break any rules now. We all agree, therefore, that this conversation does not constitute legal advice? I mean, you both just now used 'lawyer' as a verb, so clearly you're experts in what constitutes legal advice, et cetera. Agreed?"

Pierce and Shirley both nodded.

"Okay, that being said, what I-can't-believe-it's-not-legal-advice can I give you?"

They both started speaking at once, then broke off. "After you, buxom wench," Pierce said in a condescending tone.

"Pierce is trying to tell me how to run my shop," Shirley said flatly. "He can't do that."

Jeff nodded. "Pierce, she's right. Knock it off. Issue resolved."

"What?" Pierce grumbled. "It's a little more complicated than…"

"It's not, actually. Your contract is very specific on this exact point. You're a silent partner and you waived any right to advice Shirley on any and all aspects of the business."

"I don't… are you sure that's what the contract says?" Pierce squinted. "I don't think I would have agreed to that."

Jeff folded his arms. "I wrote the contract. Then I read it out loud and explained it to both of you. Then you both signed it."

"Still, I…" Pierce shrugged. "Surely I'm not… I mean, who's expected to understand all that legal mumbo-jumbo?"

"Trust me, Pierce, don't claim to be incompetent to understand a contract," Jeff told him. "You do not want to go down the road. Unless you'd like the court to assign you a legal guardian for your own good, and freeze all your bank accounts?"

"I guess not." Pierce scowled and kicked at the ground, Charlie Brown style. "I just wanted the cookies."

"What's he talking about?" Annie asked Shirley.

Shirley shook her head in disgust. "Horrible-ass vegan peanut butter cookies made with cocoanut oil, I swear…"

"I'm seeing this woman," Pierce began.

"Pierce," said Jeff.

"There's this stripper at the Russian Palace," Pierce said. "Bianca. She's vegan, and I thought if I brought her homemade cookies…"

"Oh, you sad man." Shirley clucked her tongue.

"Who's sad?" asked Britta, who had just walked up, alongside Troy and Abed. "Jeff or Pierce? Or, no, I've got it, you're both sad in different ways."

"Eugh," Jeff said. "What are you wearing?"

"I know, right?" said Troy with a heavy sigh. "She coulda been all sexy, but…" He and Abed appeared to have obtained their costumes from the boy's Halloween section of Wal-Mart, which no one commented on as it seemed only par for the course.

Britta spun around to show off her outfit, a drab and layered affair with a heavy apron and long sleeves; very conservative, especially next to Shirley. "It's a replica Flemish glassblowing costume! Intended for a man, obviously, but lots of women dressed like men in the Middle Ages."

"Seems about right," said Jeff.

"Annie Edison!" someone called from within the roped-off area.

Everyone, not just Annie, turned in the direction of the voice. "Annie Edison!" The source of the voice was a man in a wire-mesh fencing mask and a green tabard over some basic renfair garb. He waved as he approached. "I knew it was you!"

"You know people besides us?" Troy asked Annie accusingly.

Annie smiled and shook her head in confusion. "I'm sorry, you are…?"

"Oh, jeez, where are my manners, sorry." The man pulled the mask off, revealing a boyishly handsome face with a neatly-trimmed beard and eyeglasses. "Chuck Martindale? Debate club? I was the guy who skipped half the meetings and let the rest of you guys do the work?"

Annie looked perplexed for a moment, but then her face lit up. "From high school!" she cried, delighted. "I didn't recognize you! The beard. And the rapier." She looked him up and down. "Wow, so you're a knight now, huh?"

Chuck chuckled. "Well, you're one to talk, in that…"

Jeff, staring at this interloper, and cleared his throat loudly. "You gonna introduce us?"

Annie shot him a glance. "Chuck, this is my friend Jeff. And these are my friends Pierce and Shirley and Britta and Troy and Abed." She pointed at each in turn. "Oh, Troy went to high school with us."

Troy grinned. "I don't remember you even a little bit, Chuck." He extended his hand, but was elbowed out of the way by Jeff.

"Pleasure to meet you Chuck any friend of Annie's," he said. There was a smile on his face that might more accurately be called a snarl. Jeff grabbed Chuck's hand for a shake. He gritted his teeth as he tried to crush the other man's hand in his, a task that proved more difficult than Jeff had expected.

"Oh, um, hi." Chuck blinked a few times, clearly taken aback.

Annie smiled shyly. "I haven't seen you in years, Chuck. What have you been up to?"

"Well, fencing, obviously!" Chuck chuckled. "I do regular epee fencing at CU Denver, actually, not just the SCA stuff. Graduating in the spring. You? How's Harvard? It was Harvard, right?"

Annie's smile remained fixed in place. "Let's walk and talk."

"Uh, sure. Sure," said Chuck, with the genial air of a man who's just found a twenty-dollar bill lying on the ground.

"You can, um, show me some swords." Annie put her hand on Chuck's back and steered him along the rope fence, away from the group.

Jeff watched them go. Britta, Troy, Shirley, Abed, and Pierce watched Jeff watch them go. Britta exchanged glances with the others, then held up three fingers, two, one…

"I'm going to go check on a thing," Jeff said. "Back in a minute."

"Sure you are," said Britta, but Jeff had already dashed off in the direction Annie and Chuck had gone.

"Jeff is going to duel him for Annie's hand," predicted Abed. Everyone turned to look at him. "I bet," he added.

"Well, yeah," said Britta.

"That doesn't take a psychic," agreed Shirley.

Pierce nodded. "The sexual tension between Jeff and Chuck _was_ pretty unbelievable."

Shirley cleared her throat. "Well," she said brightly, "I think I'm going to go check out the crafts booths. Britta?"

"Hmm?" Britta had been adjusting the way her apron bunched under her armpits.

"Care to join me?" Shirley asked, as sweetly as was humanly possible.

Britta raised her eyebrows. "Join you looking at cornshuck dolls and clams painted to look like Lucille Ball? Ha, yeah," she said. "That's totally my kind of thing."

Shirley smiled at her, saying nothing, until realization dawned.

"Oh, you're serious?" Britta asked, disconcerted. "Is this one of those girly bonding things?"

Shirley continued to smile.

"It is, isn't it? It's a girly bonding thing." Britta sighed, then turned to Troy. She took both his hands in hers. "I have to go do a girly bonding thing."

"It's okay," Troy assured her solemnly. "I understand." He brightened. "Plus Abed and I are going to play King Arthur and Robin Hood!"

Britta nodded. "I saw that one coming."

"Ready to go, Britta?" Shirley asked, putting the accent on the second syllable of Britta's name.

As the two women retreated towards the crafts tents, Pierce rubbed his hands together. "So gentlemen," he said to Troy and Abed, "looks like it's just the three of us!"

Abed and Troy exchanged glances. "It's not that you're a terrible no-fun old person," Troy began.

"Ah!" Pierce raised a hand to cut Troy off. "Say no more! I know what you're going to ask, and yes, I do have a costume!"

"I wasn't going to ask that."

Pierce patted his satchel. "I just have to go change — I didn't want to wear it into the Faire, because… well, you'll see why. Give me two minutes!" He dashed off towards the men's privies by the entrance, before Troy or Abed could protest.

Three minutes later, Troy and Abed were still standing there. "I feel like we should have just walked away," Troy said. "We've had minutes. We could be over on the other side of the Faire by now."

"Ask yourself," Abed said, putting his hand on Troy's shoulder, "what would Robin Hood do?"

"Man, I don't know. It's a…" Troy trailed off as Pierce finally came back around the corner from the men's privies. He'd been prepared for a lot of things, but he hadn't expected Pierce to be wearing his Star Trek costume.

"Set phasers to adventure!" cried Pierce, grinning broadly as he approached Troy and Abed. "What do you think, huh? Huh?" He gestured excitedly to his outfit, as though Troy and Abed might not have noticed it.

Abed spoke first. "Pierce, you're dressed as a Starfleet captain circa the mid-23rd century. This is a Renaissance Fair ostensibly set in 1605, albeit with massive anachronisms."

"I know! Must be some kind of transporter malfunction!" Pierce chortled. He pulled a replica communicator from his belt and flipped it open. "Kirk to Enterprise. Kirk to Enterprise. Come in, Scotty! I've been transported to medieval times!" Pierce snapped the communicator shut with a flourish. "Boy, I sure hope there aren't any Klingons around!" He looked around with barely restrained glee, as though he expected applause for his daring and novel idea.

"We're doing a whole knights and wizards thing, man," Troy protested.

"I'm an unexpected fish out of water! That's entertaining," Pierce said with an authority more appropriate to citing Talmudic lore. "I'll have all kinds of confused reactions to, uh, turkey legs and boobs in bodices and stuff."

* * *

And so the starship captain cavorted before the two princes in a manner most jolly, demanding to participate in the princes' games as an equal. The two princes knew that the starship captain's antics would only lead to ruination, and yet their kindness of spirit was such that one prince convinced the other to allow the starship captain to play with them, on a trial basis. Would the princes' reticence prove to be unfounded? And what of the princess and the Flemish crossdresser's girly bonding? Not to mention the curious triangle of the attorney, the princess, and the knight! All these cliffhangers will be resolved after our intermission.

In the meantime, please consider tossing a little money in Ye Old Hat, and feel free to peruse our merchandise.

Huzzah!


	8. Perspectives on the Renaissance Act 2

Welcome back, ye lords and ladies! Marry, 'tis a fine day for a faire! Huzzah! Thank ye for coming out and supporting live folk art! Especially thanks to ye who donated during the intermission. Now gather ye round, good lords and ladies, and listen well to this, the second chapter of our story!

Once upon a time, a starship captain was lurching around like a fool. He annoyed all passersby, both casual renfair visitors and dedicated own-their-own-bodices rennies. He forced his way into group photos, he danced through crowds calling for Spock, he asked glassblowers and hobbyist weavers inane questions about their replicators. Through it all, his friends the two princes gritted their teeth and endured, politely asking the starship captain to tone it down and, on occasion, apologizing for him to the their fellow renfair-attendees.

Eventually the starship captain began to speculate, loudly and apropos of nothing, that he was probably on the holodeck. It was not until he began to bellow, loudly and repeatedly, for the computer to end the program, that the two princes finally snapped.

* * *

"Dammit Pierce! That doesn't even make sense!" cried Troy.

Abed wailed for a moment, which attracted at least as much attention as Pierce's carryings-on. Then he went slack and sat down cross-legged in the dirt. "You're dressed as a TOS-era Starfleet captain. The holodeck wasn't popularized until the TNG-era, decades later. Decades!" Abed practically spat the last word.

"Fellas, fellas, what's the big deal?" Pierce asked, still grinning.

"You're ruining costume time!" shouted Troy. "You come in, with your stupid Star Trek clothes and your stupid fake communicator and your stupid fake phaser…" He threw his plastic sword onto the grass petulantly. "That's not what we're doing, man!"

Pierce swallowed. "Well," he began, "I don't _have_ to have the phaser…"

"Get out of here! We don't want to play with you! You're ruining it!"

"I… fine." Pierce raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry."

As he slowly walked away, Troy turned to Abed, still sitting on the ground. Abed was rocking back and forth, his eyes screwed shut.

"It's okay, buddy," Troy told him. "He's gone."

Abed stopped rocking. "Good." He sprang to his feet. "Do we still have time to do the Sherwood Forest duel, or do you need to go have sex with your girlfriend?"

Troy blinked in confusion as Abed checked the time on his phone. "I'm not going anywhere, buddy, what are you…"

"The last four times we've done bits that lasted more than ninety minutes, you ended them prematurely citing a preexisting commitment with Britta. On two of the four occasions, Britta expressed surprise when you contacted her, indicating that no preexisting plans had in fact been made," Abed declared. "You just wanted to fool around with her. Pierce was keeping us from actually doing anything for over an hour, so, how much longer until you ditch me?"

"Buddy, I'm not going to ditch you!"

Abed nodded solemnly. "I know you think that, Troy, but you are, and it's okay. This is how it is. The hero," Abed pointed at Troy, "and his wacky friend," Abed pointed at himself, "are initially inseparable, but over time they grow apart as the boy meets girl, loses girl, gets girl. Eventually you're going to turn to me, and I'm going to look at you and put my hand on your shoulder and say 'go get her,' and you'll nod, and then you'll leave and I'll never see you again."

"I came back from AC Repair school for you!"

"For me and for Britta," corrected Abed. "If Britta had a wacky best friend of her own that I could hook up with that'd be one thing, but the only option there is Annie and frankly there's nothing there when I'm not pretending to be Jeff, plus he would run me over in his car."

"He wouldn't…"

"I've run the scenarios. But that's fine. I've accepted this."

Troy shook his head. "Just because it happens like that on television doesn't mean…"

"Not just television," Abed said. "Film, literature, opera. The only alternative to the two of us drifting apart is if we become lovers ourselves. I can't deny I've considered that, but I don't think it would work out in the long run as we both like women too much."

"Abed," Troy said desperately, "just because I'm seeing Britta doesn't mean anything has to change!"

"It does, though." Abed's tone was flat. "Everything changes. People graduate. People move. People die. People remarry and stop celebrating Christmas with you on December 7th, people stop loving people, people change. That's the way the world is. Thinking otherwise is childish. So we change with the world and we try to find places we can be comfortable. Right now, that's you and Britta."

"Right now?"

Abed shook his head. "It's a ticking bomb, but the sooner you try to make it work and then fail, the sooner you can work through it. You'll be happier in the long run. After you and Britta break up, you'll probably rededicate yourself to plumbing or air conditioning repair, and we'll spend more time together initially. Then you'll meet another girl, and we'll drift apart. I'll give a speech at your wedding. I've already written it." He shrugged. "People change, and that's really not my thing."

"Abed," Troy said carefully, "it kind of hurts me that you consider our friendship to be such a transient thing."

"I'm just being realistic. We already pushed Pierce away. Soon we'll turn on each other."

"Well, yeah," Troy admitted, "but only because that's what happened in history when King Arthur betrayed Robin Hood to the Nazgul."

* * *

At the fencing arena in the center of the Faire, Jeff, Annie, and Chuck had reached the knot of SCA fencers who were setting up for an afternoon of informal competition. Somehow along the way Jeff had slipped in between the other two. He smiled and laughed and agreed with all of Chuck's assertions about how epee fencing was the only real fencing but rapiers were fun on special occasions. The younger man seemed oblivious to what Jeff hoped wasn't an obvious attempt to keep Chuck away from Annie. Annie herself had probably cottoned to it, Jeff knew, but one problem at a time. Step one, ingratiate himself with Chuck the idiot and his idiot friends. Step two, demonstrate his superiority over all of them. Step three, no longer feel threatened by a guy being friendly to Annie. Not that Jeff felt threatened, of course. Jeff was not a guy who felt _things_ , much less threatened…

By the time they reached the other fencers, Chuck was eager to introduce Jeff to the group, along with Annie. Under other circumstances, she'd have just exchanged a few pleasantries, then moved on to explore the rest of the Faire, but Jeff's odd behavior filled her with a sort of morbid curiosity.

"What has gotten into you, Jeff?" Annie asked him, during a brief lull when she was able to pull him aside. "I didn't think you were the kind of guy who cared what a bunch of… sword-jocks thought of you."

"Annie, you forget, I can make friends anywhere." He grinned at her, a little too broadly.

Her eyes narrowed. "This is some kind of jealousy thing, isn't it?" she asked. "I was talking about how I had a crush on the knights when I was in the eighth grade.. The eighth grade, Jeff… and Chuck was being all friendly to me, so you, what, you have to be friendlier to him?"

"Please. Why would I mind if my new buddy Chuck is 'being all friendly' at you? He's adorable. He's like a puppy." Seeing she wasn't mollified, Jeff pressed further. "A great guy, obviously. You should date him."

Annie reared back. "Whoa! You're just getting weird now."

"You should date him," Jeff repeated, more slowly. _Because if I say that you should date him, then I'm obviously fine with you dating him_ , he thought to himself _._ He wasn't fine with Annie dating Chuck, of course. In fact the idea filled him with a sort of queasy rage he couldn't name. However Annie didn't need to know that. It was just that Jeff thought Chuck was a monkey and she deserved better. "Right after I demonstrate that he's basically a monkey I can get to do whatever I want."

She looked at him like he was crazy. "You just met him, you can't seriously think you can get him to do whatever you want."

Jeff licked his lips nervously. He reminded himself his ultimate goal here was to demean Chuck in Annie's eyes, because… well, he wasn't sure why, but it definitely wasn't because he didn't like that Chuck had been friendly with her. "I can and I will. You want me to demonstrate? I'm going to fence him."

"Jeff, you aren't in the SCA, you aren't dressed for it, you can't…"

"No, I can do that. I can." Jeff swallowed. He wanted, no, he _needed_ Annie's buy-in on this, he realized on some instinctual level where he couldn't lie to himself. "In fact, I _bet_ you I can."

She raised an eyebrow. "You bet me?"

"I bet you. I bet you, uh… lunch. Eh?" He tried to smile disarmingly at her.

Annie didn't smile back. "I already had lunch."

"Lunch another day, then," Jeff said. "They're going to call me Wingman, and I'm going to get a sword, and I'm going to fence with your friend. It isn't that hard. People did it in the Middle Ages, and they were all idiots back then, which is why they didn't have text messaging or plastic."

* * *

Meanwhile on the far side of the Faire, within the mazy confines of the crafts area, Shirley and Britta were examining handmade jewelry. More accurately, Shirley was staring at handmade jewelry while Britta stared at everything except handmade jewelry. "Chainmail bikini and shirtless barbarian at three o'clock," Britta murmured to Shirley.

Shirley glanced up at the pair. "Oh, that is not a good look for him." She picked up a string of wooden beads marked with random Futhark runes. "So Britta," she said, her voice lilting upwards, "you and Troy seem to be enjoying one another's company."

"Hm? Yeah. I guess." Britta craned her neck to try to get a better look at one of the passersby.

Shirley took a break before she continued. "I do hope you're not disrepecting yourself, or Troy, by giving in to society's pressure to degrade yourselves…"

"What?" Britta whipped her head back around. "Sorry, that wasn't a rhetorical 'what,' that was, what did you say? It sounded like you said something crazy."

Shirley paused to consider her words carefully. "I said I hope that you and Troy aren't making any mistakes."

"What, you mean like…" Britta trailed off as she finally took Shirley's meaning. She scoffed in disbelief. "Shirley, are you serious?"

"Dead serious!" Shirley switched to her 'other voice,' a low growl. "I don't know the kind of man you've been with in the past, well, actually I do in several instances, but Troy is good boy."

"Meaning I'm not?" Britta's eyes were wide with shock. "I can't believe you're saying this to me!"

"Well, I know your mother isn't exactly…" Shirley stopped, then started again. "No. I mean, I'm a woman with a little more experience than you in terms of what makes a relationship work, and I don't want to see you hurting Troy, or yourself, because you can't…"

"Shirley!" Britta's voice shifted to a near-screech. Several of the nearby Faire-goers looked up, interested in the scene. "You're telling me you know what makes a relationship work? You married your high school sweetheart, took him back after he cheated on you, and you have the gall to lecture me on respecting myself? When have you ever respected yourself?!"

Shirley glanced around uneasily, acutely aware that they were the center of attention. "With all due respect, Britta.." she began diplomatically.

"With all due respect Shirley I didn't ask for your opinion!" Britta snapped. "When I'm looking to become a dissatisfied housewife who wasted her youth on a man who very obviously isn't worth it and who at the end of the day is always going to be seen primarily as a mother instead of a person, I'll come to you, but until then, I don't need your meddling!" She spun on her heel and stomped away, angry tears forming.

Shirley watched Britta go without saying anything, blinking back tears of her own.

* * *

At the fencing arena, Annie leaned against a post and stared grimly at Jeff as he emerged from a small knot of fencers and approached her.

"You're totally going to owe me lunch," he told her.

"You know," Annie replied, "I didn't actually agree to…"

"Wingman!" Chuck's cry cut her off. He walked up, making gunfingers at Jeff. "Pretty lady," he greeted Annie.

"And to think we used to be friends," Annie murmured quietly to herself.

"What's the good word, Chuck?" Jeff asked him.

"I cleared it with Jerry, we can totally do a little impromptu lesson. Just got to get you a safety helmet."

"Great," said Jeff. He shot Annie a smug look; she stuck her tongue out at him, quick enough that Chuck didn't see it.

"Okay, cool. We can get that going in just a few minutes." Chuck smiled, then turned aside, signaling to Jeff to follow him just out of Annie's earshot. "So, uh, I do have one question, though. What's up with you and Annie?" Chuck asked him quietly, once they were far enough away. "You with that, or are you just friends?"

Jeff found himself momentarily at a loss for words.

Chuck, not the most perceptive of men, didn't notice. "'Cause man, it's nothing to be ashamed of. She's cleaned up _noice_. I couldn't blame you. I barely recognized… you know, we used to call her Annie Adderall. She's looking fine now, though. I was thinking I'd, you know, go for it — the kind of girls who dress up for the Faire are total fencing groupies — but if she's yours, I wouldn't."

Jeff continued to stammer.

Chuck continued to not notice the expression on Jeff's face. "Man, Annie Adderall. I bet she's a freak, too, you know, trying to compensate for being such a dork that she's up for anything. Heh."

Jeff viewed the world as through a red-stained pane of glass. _Punch him_ , one part of Jeff suggested. _No, no, get a sword and stab him_ , suggested another. _Go tell Annie what he just told you_ , demanded a third. Or would she assume he was exaggerating to make some kind of point?

Chuck looked wistful for a minute. "But like I said, no disrespect intended, dude. You're a cool guy; I'm not going to steal your girl. Anyway, I'm gonna go find you a rapier."

He patted Jeff on the shoulder and walked away.

"So the thing about Annie," Jeff began slowly, and then realized he was speaking to empty air. "The thing about Annie is you don't get to talk about her that way," he muttered.

* * *

Alas! The Flemish crossdresser and the princess have sundered their friendship. Can this rift be repaired? It's a difficult question, but not the only question our band of heroes must face. What will become of the starship captain, now wandering forlornly with no princes to play with? Will the prince's predictions of a bleaker future come true, and are they a self-fulfilling prophecy? What the hell will it take to get the attorney to stop behaving so asininely in his attempts to woo the other princess, and for how much longer will she tolerate his nonsense?

Fear not! At the good king's Renaissance Pleasure Faire all these questions shall indeed be answered, ye kind lords and ladies! First we must however take a second short break, during which time ye are again welcome to avail ye-selves of the donation options offered by Ye Olde Hat.

Huzzah!


	9. Perspectives on the Renaissance Act 3

Huzzah! Fine lords and ladies, surely now your attention is whetted most keen, and ye seek answers to ye's burning questions. I'll waste no time, and jump straight into it.

Once upon a time there was an attorney who tried not to hate himself. He had been struggling to not hate himself for some time, and only recently had he seemed to turn any kind of corner and make real progress. Part of that progress was accepting that he adored a certain princess of his acquaintance, and that her opinion of him meant more than anyone's. Another part of that progress was facing the truth that merely adoring a princess didn't make the attorney a suitable match for her. And a third part of that progress was recognizing that the attorney needed to understand that by refusing to allow the princess to determine her own mind, he was in fact infantilizing her…

I can see I'm losing you. You know what? I'm going to start over.

Once upon a time there was a princess, and an attorney who had problems (mostly self-inflicted). For reasons he refused to articulate, even to himself, the attorney was overwhelmed with jealousy whenever another man showed undue attention to the princess and especially when she seemed intrigued by other men. This jealousy drove him to strange places, a kind of madness that caused many of the attorney's aforementioned self-inflicted problems.

No, that's still too long. Once upon a time there was a princess and an attorney who loved her but was also kind of a jerk.

One day the attorney and the princess met an old friend of the princess's, now a mighty knight. The knight flattered the princess, and the attorney seethed, until he could stand it no more. Rather than speak honestly to the princess about his feelings, the attorney challenged the knight to combat on the field of battle, despite the obvious problems with this plan.

* * *

"There are some really obvious problems with your plan." Annie glared at him.

Jeff fiddled with the fencing helmet Chuck had given him, trying to figure out how to adjust it to fit. "Name one," he said without looking up.

"One. You don't know how to fence. You could get hurt."

He scoffed. "There's plastic tips and masks and stuff, I'll be fine."

"Two. You don't know how to fence, part two: assuming you're even able to stand the right way to have an actual bout, Chuck will effortlessly defeat you."

"I know!" Jeff glanced up, then quickly went back to his mask. "It's not about winning, it's about sportsmanship. I said I wanted to try it." _Also_ , he thought, _I am going to cheat and… I don't know, break his nose or something._

"Three. You're doing this because you're jealous of the attention I've been giving Chuck."

"Not true!" Jeff barked, studiously examining his mask. He was doing this because Chuck had badmouthed Annie. He was defending Annie's honor, was what he was going. Jeff was, he decided, practically a knight of olden times himself, rising to the defense of his beloved's honor…

…Not that he was Annie's beloved. Or rather, not that Annie was his beloved, he corrected himself.

"Okay, fine, four, you're also doing it because you need Chuck and the fencing jocks to like you, and how they feel about you is more important to you than me, I guess, because all that's happening right now is that you're making me mad."

Jeff blinked a few times. Annie's words had stung, but he did his best to conceal that. "You are mistaken," he said breezily, still focused on the mask's straps. "And I will tell you why as soon as…" _as soon as I come up with a good-sounding lie_ "…as soon as I finish tightening these."

"Five," said Annie. She spun on her heel and marched directly away from the fencing arena.

Jeff looked up when Annie didn't name a fifth thing. He rose, and bit his lip, trying to think of what to say if he chased her. When he chased her, to be honest.

"Wingman!" cried Chuck, approaching from behind Jeff. In his hands he held a second sword that appeared to have been made from duct tape and some kind of dowel. "I found a practice rapier you can use. Now, you want to… Wingman?"

Jeff turned to the younger man.

"Heh, yeah." Chuck proffered the rapier to Jeff, who gingerly took it. "See, the way you want to hold this, is… uh, guy?"

Jeff had turned back towards the spot Annie had been standing. He sighed heavily.

"Everybody's over by the pavilion," Chuck told him. "C'mon, everybody wants to show you how it's done." He glanced around. "Where'd Annie Adderall go?"

Jeff ignored Chuck. "Damn it," he muttered. He dropped the mask.

"Jeff?" asked Chuck.

Jeff sighed. "Chuck? First, you don't call her Annie Adderall."

"What, guy?" Chuck asked with a chuckle.

"Second," Jeff said, and then he bent the rapier in his hand over his knee until it had a ninety-degree bend in it.

"I was hoping that would snap," Jeff said, examining it. "What is this, fibreglass?"

"What the hell, dude?!" Chuck was livid.

Jeff tossed the worthless item to the ground. "I was going to punch you in the face, but violence never solved anything," he said.

"What?!" Chuck bellowed. "Guy! That cost almost a hundred…"

"Shut up," Jeff suggested. Swearing under his breath, he ducked under the rope fence and jogged after Annie.

* * *

"Okay," said Troy. "King Arthur and Robin Hood have defeated the vampires."

Abed nodded. "Check."

"England is saved," Troy continued.

"Check."

"We've totally done all of the stuff we said we were going to do."

"Check."

"I'm not going to _not_ do stuff I said I was going to do with you."

"Sure." The difference in Abed's tone was slight, but to Troy it stood out clearly.

"Buddy! I know I've been kind of preoccupied with Britta lately, but, you know, it's not the first time one of us has been distracted by a girl." Troy sat down on a bench and gestured for Abed to join him.

He did so. "I know. Britta's different, though. She's made an attempt to watch _Inspector Spacetime_ with us."

"So?"

"So you let her," said Abed. "So she intruded on what had been off-limits. So she established a precedent that previously unbreachable barriers can be crossed. When you and she break up and you move on, there'll be a presumption that the next girl is welcome to join us at movie night, too."

"I'm really not comfortable with the way you keep predicting we're going to break up." Troy sighed.

"You and Britta, or you and me?"

"Both!" cried Troy. "I tell you man, I am always going to be your friend. Maybe I'll get married. Maybe I'll move to France. Maybe I'll move to Mars once they open it up for homesteaders. But I'm always going to be your friend. Always. We're not going to just, like, peter out."

"I don't think it will peter out," Abed said. "Most people get frustrated with me and push me away."

"Well, I won't," Troy insisted. "I don't do that to people."

"You did it to Pierce," Abed pointed out. "We both did."

* * *

Britta was discovering, the hard way, that the crafts area of the Faire was a maze of tents selling crap. Colored rocks, ceramic frogs, homemade soap, homemade honey, homemade felt hats, homemade candles, homemade candies, homemade cookies, homemade fudge, hand-blown glass, hand-woven tapestries, hand-woven baskets, and then colored rocks again because she'd circled all the way around without finding the way out.

She considered just pushing through one of the tents, regardless of how many hand-stamped bronze placards it sent crashing to the stony ground. But before she could psych herself up to cause substantial property damage, Shirley found her.

"Britta," Shirley said stiffly, her voice high and almost cracking, "I apologize for being a busybody. I understand that it's not my place to comment on your life choices, regardless of how destructive I personally feel them to be."

Britta scowled. She wanted to snap at Shirley for trying to take the mortal high ground, but mostly she just wanted to get out of the crafts area and find a stand selling mead or beer or wine. "That, that's fine, Shirley. I'm sorry I snapped at you. Can we just put this behind us?"

"Of course, Britta, if that's what you'd like." Shirley's voice slipped up another half an octave. She glanced around. "These are some very pretty bronze Pottery-Barn-esque pieces of… stuff, that you've found."

"Yeah." Britta sighed. "I could really imagine decorating my bathroom with this junk."

"Oh, not your bathroom," said Shirley, in something like a normal tone of voice, "people have to use that and you want them to be comfortable."

Britta snickered, as the woman whose tent it was glowered at them. "Do you know how to get out of here and find a wine stand? They have wine at Renfaires, right?"

Shirley nodded. "How else could people stand them?"

A few minutes later Shirley and Britta were sipping glasses of red wine and sitting under a tree, watching people in costumes worse than theirs wander by.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," Britta said. "You were just trying to help."

"That's true."

"You've been married for years. It's been rocky but you've made it work," she continued.

"That's true," Shirley repeated.

"And I've never been in a relationship that lasted past the spend-a-weekend-chained-to-his-bed phase, and the breakups are always terrible, and I end up losing all of our mutual friends." Britta sipped her wine glumly.

Shirley nodded.

"In two weeks if we're still together Troy will be my longest relationship."

Shirley began to nod, but did a double take. "What?"

"Usually I…"

"You and Troy got together right before classes started, am I right? You weren't secretly hooking up all summer or anything?"

"Yeah…"

"So your record for a relationship is _five weeks_?"

"No!" Britta said defensively. "It's my record for a relationship without any interruptions. Like, three weeks on, two months off, four weeks on, until the next time the carnival comes through off…"

"Who was this five-week Lothario who kept you on the hook for longer than any other man?" Shirley asked.

"He was…" Britta glanced around, suddenly self-conscious. "He had a boat."

"And what about Jeff? Weren't you and he secretly dating for months?" Shirley scowled. She'd always thought Jeff and Britta were cute together.

Britta scoffed. "Okay, that totally doesn't count for like eighteen different reasons. I mean, I actually _like_ Troy. We hang out, and… I don't know! It's different!"

Shirley closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Okay," she said. "It's not my place to try to help you _not ruin your life and Troy's life_ , girl, what the Christ do you think —"

"Okay, okay, okay!" Britta held up her hands in a cool-it gesture. "I hear what you're saying. I just…" She sighed.

"Right, right." Shirley emptied her plastic wineglass. "It's your life, you live it how you want, I love you and I want you to be happy and I'm not judging or trying to offer you advice."

"You could offer me some advice," Britta said, in a weary tone. "I mean, you obviously know something, you've been with Andre for so long."

"I pretended to like country music." Shirley looked into the middle distance, remembering. "Andre was going through this country phase when we met? God awful. Eventually I came clean, and he said he'd gotten sick of it months earlier but he'd pretended he still liked it because I still liked it, and I said I never liked it in the first place…"

"Troy is really into _Inspector Spacetime_ ," Britta offered.

"We're not talking about Troy right now, Britta, because that is a conversation we clearly have to work up to. In fact, I shouldn't even be talking about Andre yet. We need to start with an example of a relationship that hit that big six-week milestone, and work our way up." Shirley leaned back against the tree trunk. "In high school I knew this boy named Malcolm…"

* * *

"Annie!" Jeff called out. He was sure she heard him but she didn't turn or acknowledge him until he had caught up to her.

"You're missing the fencing," she said without breaking stride as he fell in next to her.

"You win," he said simply, which was enough to stop her in her tracks.

She turned to him in surprise. "I win?"

"Yeah, I… You're right."

Annie narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "How was I right?"

Jeff glanced around as though fearful someone might be listening. "I shouldn't have tried to ingratiate myself with the, what'd you call them, the Scadians." He coughed. "Also, Chuck is not a guy I think you should be dating."

"Hmm." Annie looked thoughtful. "Who should I be dating?"

"Uh…" Jeff's eyes widened in shock for a split second, then he recovered. "Ahem, I mean, I don't know, I mean, whoever you want? Chuck's a dick, though."

She gestured for him to continue. "And?"

Jeff stroked his chin and wondered what else she could possibly be fishing for. "And? And, uh, you were right when you said I was jealous."

"You were jealous." Annie nodded slowly. "I see." She stared at the ground in front of her.

When she didn't say anything else, Jeff cleared his throat. He considered saying something like _of course I was jealous! You're my favorite person and you were flirting with another guy_ but he was dangerously uncertain he could manage to get it out without sounding like _of course I wasn't jealous because I want to be the guy you're interested in dating_. Because she was his friend. She was important to him. He didn't just want to sleep with her. Strike that, he told himself: he didn't want to sleep with her, full stop.

 _Keep repeating that until you believe it._

"So, uh, forgive me?"

"Mmm?" She snapped back to attention. "You're sorry?" she asked with a smirk.

"I'm sorry and I understand that what I did was wrong," he said. Sensing Annie needed him to say more, he continued "and I want to make it up to you. If you're still willing to hang out…?"

"Oh, sure. Absolutely." Annie started strolling through the Faire at a more relaxed pace, a smirk on her face. "So this is refreshing," she said after a moment.

"Yeah?" Jeff, next to her, asked wearily.

"I'm just saying. Usually when one of us goes flying off the handle it's me, and then you give me a heartfelt talk about how great I am in a little speech that contains an implicit apology, and then I come right out and apologize," she said, still smirking.

He narrowed his eyes. "I don't think that's completely accurate…"

"It's okay, Jeff, I forgive you." Annie reached out and grasped his shoulder, then gave it a squeeze.

"I also broke one of their swords. Well, I bent it. It was just fiberglass."

She nodded. "That sounds about right."

Jeff sighed. "We can just put this whole incident behind us, right? Pretend it never happened?"

"Well, I don't know that I can let you off the hook that easily. You do owe me lunch," Annie replied.

* * *

"Captain's log, supplemental," Pierce narrated to himself as he sulked through the Faire. "The natives of this era are hostile and unwelcoming. Some of the women are showing really impressive cleavage, but I'm Captain Kirk so I see that all the time. None of the native girls have thrown themselves at me, but I suppose that was too much to expect."

A woman near Pierce, overhearing him, turned away and adjusted her jacket. A disgusted look was on her face.

"No disrespect intended!" he called to her retreating back, then returned to his narration. "Lacking a reason to remain in the area, I'll be returning to my shuttlecraft shortly. I was hoping to find Shirley and make sure she has a way home, but I guess I'll just wait in the car. Message ends."

His shoulders were hunched as he ambled back to the Faire's main gate. Pierce paused there, and turned to scan the Faire one more time. He froze as he heard a flat, mechanical voice address him.

"Halt, human."

"Aybed?" Pierce looked around, trying to find the source of the voice.

"We are the Borg! You will be assimilated! Resistance is futile!" Troy's voice, this time.

"Troy?" Pierce turned a complete circle in place, ignoring the irritated looks the other Faire-goers shot him. "Where are you guys?"

"Designation 'you guys' inappropriate. We are the Borg. Your weapons are ineffective in the face of our superior technology." Abed suddenly stepped from behind the fence blocking the men's privies. He had traded in his ersatz Robin Hood costume for cardboard cyborg armor over a black sweatsuit.

"We will absorb your old white man-ness and add it to our own, like we did with Picard!" cried Troy as he stepped out next to Abed. His King Arthur garb, too, had been replaced with cardboard robot gear.

Pierce's face lit up. "Aw, you guys!" He stood there a moment, grinning, then pulled his plastic phaser from his belt and pretended to shoot at them.

Abed folded his arms. "Our shields are impenetrable to your crude Federation technology."

"Yeah!" Troy nodded. "Your weapons are useless against us! Ptchoo! Ptchoo!"

"Ptchoo ptchoo!"

Troy and Abed pointed their fingers at Pierce and pantomimed firing on him.

"Ha! Missed me!" Pierce ducked behind an ATM kiosk placed prominently at the Faire's entrance. "Also, they could put the ATM in a tent or something, at least get it out of the line of sight, wouldn't you think? People are trying to have a medieval experience, here!"

And on that note, we close this particular chapter in the lives of the attorney, the two princesses, the two princes, the Flemish crossdresser, and the starship captain. Their disputes are resolved. Or, to be more accurate, their disputes are papered over. The Flemish crossdresser and the prince are still the subject of the princess's attention, the starship captain is still struggle to ingratiate himself with the two princes, and the two princes may or may not be on the verge of drifting apart. On the plus side, the attorney has promised to take the princess to lunch sometime, so that might be a step in a positive direction. And so we say with misplaced confidence that they all lived happily ever after.

Huzzah for the Renaissance Faire! Thank thee! Thank thee! Your tips are gladly accepted! We shall be performing every weekend from now until Halloween!

Huzzah!

* * *

Author's note: This is a slightly revised version of this portion of the story I originally uploaded, as I managed to in the process of revising an earlier draft totally bungle a crucial paragraph (the one that starts _when she didn't say anything else_ ) and not realize it. And now I've gone and edited it again, to add this explanatory note.


	10. The S of the S and the P of L Act 1

A/N: _Back to the Future_. Have you seen _Back to the Future_? If you haven't, do not read this. Go watch _Back to the Future_ and then come back.

If you have seen _Back to the Future_ , take a minute to refresh it in your mind. Do some searches for videos. I recommend a fanvid of OK Go's "Here it Goes Again" with _Back to the Future_ , and the mash-up _"_ Brokeback to the Future _"_ and a cute albeit low-budget _"Back to the Future_ with lyrics" video you can find online pretty easily. I'd post links but that's not permitted in this space. At the very least, listen to "the Power of Love" by Huey Lewis and the News.

If this was an episode of _Community_ rather than a piece of fanfiction, there'd be an alternate credits sequence wherein the _Community_ theme was recast in the vein of the _Back to the Future_ theme.

 _Back to the Future._ Cannot stress this enough.

Also, thanks again to Amrywiol for beta-reading and offering useful commentary.

Also also, according to my timeline, this episode takes place on October 19th, 2012.

* * *

THE SPIRIT OF THE STAIRWAY AND THE POWER OF LOVE

Act 1

The Hawthorne mansion stood on what had been the outskirts of Greendale when it was built, nearly a hundred years prior. It hadn't been the Hawthorne mansion then; it had been the Outlook Hotel, a big slab of resort intended to entice the hep young rum-runner and his moll, and separate them from their money while keeping smiles on their faces.

It had changed hands, and been remodeled, several times since. Pierce had overseen the most recent renovation himself, during Ronald Reagan's second term. With garish neon and bold designer colors and shapes, stepping into the Hawthorne mansion was in many ways like stepping into 1985. Certainly that had been Pierce's goal, when he decorated it: 1985 had been peak Pierce Hawthorne, in his mind, the era of his largest flickers of greatness. After 1985 had been Pierce's forties and fifties and now sixties, grim decades of decline not just for Pierce personally but, he believed, for America.

It was a dark and stormy night, when Abed came knocking, but Abed was too caught up in his experiences to fully appreciate that reference. Lightning crackled, cloud-to-cloud, overhead as he pounded on the Hawthorne mansion's massive door, refusing to give up even after several minutes without a response from within.

Eventually the close-circuit camera mounted next to the door whirred to a semblance of life. "Come to the door, Pierce, this is important!" Abed exhorted the microphone attached to the camera.

The intercom crackled. "Aybed?" Pierce asked, through layers of technology. "Why didn't you call? I'll buzz you in."

"No!" Abed insisted. "Come to the door! It's important! Hurry, I'm getting drizzled on!"

"What's this about?"

"Come to the door!"

"Fine, fine." The intercom clicked off and the camera's iris spun closed. Abed stood on the mansion's stoop, bouncing on the balls of his feet, for almost a minute and a half until Pierce finally opened the door. He wore a purple silk dressing gown that might not have looked out of place on Hugh Hefner, and slippers.

"Pierce!" Abed cried, as if they hadn't just spoken on the intercom. His tone was tinged with desperate excitement. "You aren't dressed right but that doesn't matter right now. I've just had the most incredible experience! I had to run home and change clothes, but then I came straight here."

Pierce looked Abed up and down. The younger man had changed, apparently, into blue jeans, a denim jacket, and a red down vest. "What did you… no! Let me guess," said Pierce.

"Yes! Good!" Abed lit up. "Exactly. You don't want to know anything about me!"

"Jeff finally came out of the closet," Pierce guessed.

Abed shook his head. "No, no. Never mind, I'll just tell you." He leaned in close and lowered his voice. "You still have a model DeLorean that can reach speeds of up to eighty-eight scale miles per hour? We're going to need it."

"Abed, what do you —"

"That's right, Doc," Abed declared, "we're going to do _Back to the Future_. Dramatic pause." He froze for a moment.

Pierce harrumphed. "You're all wound up."

"I'm in character. Don't call me chicken." Abed glanced up at the sky. "There should have been lightning. But it's okay. We have a lot to do before the Enchantment Under the Sea dance tomorrow night."

"The what?" Pierce asked, as Abed slid past him into the mansion.

"Oh, it's heavy, Doc…"

* * *

Twelve hours later Jeff Winger stood in front of his locker and tried to stay chill. Morning at Greendale was, all things considered, Jeff's second-favorite time of day. His favorite was leaving Greendale, or so he resolutely told himself. But mornings were close, especially ever since Chang had figured out that if he cancelled the stupidly early Historiography classes then no one would mind. Jeff could stroll in around ten, get coffee from Shirley's, and feel, however briefly, like life was worth living.

"Jeff! Good morning!" Annie bouncing up to him at his locker, every single morning, all fired up as though they hadn't seen one another in a week or more… that was a larger part of his affection for this time of day than he liked to admit, even to himself.

"Good morning yourself," he said to her. "You seem chipper."

"Why not be chipper?" she replied. "Life's short. Grab the bull by the horns, life's a banquet and people are starving, and, you know, stuff like that."

He nodded slowly, making an effort to keep a straight face. "Is that why you're in heels?"

She practically glowed. "You noticed!"

"Well, sure," he said, copping to it in part because it gave him an excuse to admire her legs without feeling like a dirty old man. _Shut up, brain, I'm not a dirty old man_. "I mean, it's hard to miss. You're very short so the heels have a disproportionate effect. What's the occasion?"

"No occasion." Annie shrugged. "I just thought it would be good to, you know, be able to reach taller things. My mother used to say high heels were trashy but, you know, I'm dead to her so her opinion no longer governs my shoe choices. I tried them a little freshman year, but, um, it didn't take." For a moment she looked acutely self-conscious, but it passed.

"You look great," Jeff assured her, resolutely not thinking about any implications of anything she was saying in re freshman year. "Although it's a little disorienting, seeing your face closer to my face than usual."

Annie flashed a smile. "I could take an extra step back to balance it out," she offered, and did so.

"No, see, that just makes things worse." Jeff took a step closer to her.

The two of them stood there, looking at each other, for a long moment. As always, Jeff was of two minds when it came to Annie.

 _Shut it down. Getting inappropriate. Take a step back. Kid sister. Too young. Ruin her life why don't you._

 _Oh look, it's the greatest woman on Earth and she's come to smile at me! Today is a red-letter day! Pretty smart kind sexy Annie._

Leonard, passing by, intruded on Jeff's reverie. "Get a room!" he barked.

"Shut up, Leonard!" Annie shouted at him, before Jeff had a chance to. "Your generation dismantled domestic infrastructure and destroyed the middle class!"

"Nice one," Jeff told her.

"Easy for you to say; I'm going to be renting forever." She shot the back of Leonard's head a withering glare, then turned back to Jeff and brightened. "Where were we?"

Her cheer was infectious. "I was about to head to class, and you were about to walk with me and fish for more compliments." Jeff grabbed a textbook from his locker and sauntered towards his next class. Annie fell in beside him. "You know," he said, "it's weird not having any classes together. I mean, besides Historiography, which doesn't count."

Annie nodded absently. "Yeah, it's just me and Pierce most mornings." Jeff shot her a look. "Someone needs to be there in case Chang decides to show up, hold class, and give out a thousand-point pop quiz that everyone gets a zero on because you thought sleeping was more important than your education."

"Than _my_ education?" He chuckled. "I don't see how…"

Suddenly Jeff spotted Abed over her shoulder, at the far end of the hallway. His eyes widened, and he stepped back around a corner out of Abed's sight.

"Jeff, what —?" Annie started to turn and look behind her at whatever he'd seen, but he grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her around the corner, close to him.

He held her close for several seconds, neither of them saying anything, until Jeff realized what the hell he was doing.

"Abed," he said, releasing her. "He's dressed like Marty McFly."

Annie's eyes widened. "Really?" She nervously peeked around the corner. "I don't see him."

"He might have gone into a classroom. You know what this means, though."

She nodded solemnly. "He's doing _Back to the Future_."

He nodded, too. "Hopefully only Part One." Jeff took a deep breath and shifted his weight from one foot to another. Now or never, he told himself. You can do this. "You want to opt out?"

"What?" she asked, confused.

Jeff kept his tone light. Because this wasn't a big deal. This was just a guy asking a girl on a date. Not a date. Not a date. Not a date. "I owe you lunch, remember? I figure if we stay here, it's only a matter of time before Abed finds us and recruits us into playing… well, obviously you're Lorraine, because Jennifer is too small a part and the bulk of the first movie takes place in 1955…"

"Yes." Annie nodded grimly. "And you're Biff."

"Gee," Jeff said, as he rolled his eyes. "Thanks a lot."

She gave him an appraising look that started at his knees and ended at his eyes. "You're tall and… fit… and you're definitely too good-looking to be George McFly." She shrugged. "You could be a cowboy from the third movie. Do you still have that hat?"

"I don't want to be a cowboy!" Jeff did still have that hat, but he wasn't going to admit that at the moment. "Do you want to be Lorraine? You'll have to make out with Abed and then complain that it's like kissing your brother."

"Heh, yeah." Annie let out a slightly nervous chuckle.

"So I say we go while the going's good, and leave the flux capacitating to others, just this once." He gave her an entreating look.

Annie did a double take. "Are you making Disney eyes at me?" she asked with barely concealed glee.

"No," he said quickly, blinking and shifting his gaze to the wall over her head.

"Mmm-hmm."

While Annie considered, Abed and the dean suddenly came around the corner together. "Abed, I worry about you," the dean was saying. "Changing tonight's dance to an underwater theme this late in the game? I mean, yes, I'll do it, because I love a challenge, but please. And you spent all last night with Pierce, he says… Don't give me that look," he added, when he saw Abed roll his eyes.

"Pierce is a great man. Not really," Abed amended, "but for the purposes of the exercise…"

"Pierce is an old nutcase," retorted the dean. "Don't tell him I said that, please. But let me give you a nickel's worth of advice, Abed: if you keep hanging out with Pierce, you're going to end up a nutcase just like him. And…" He trailed off. "I'm sorry, I remember there was something else, but not what it was."

"Do I have a real attitude problem?" Abed prompted him.

"What? No, no, no, no, Abed, no." The dean looked at him a moment. "No. No, you're perfectly civil."

Abed winced, but then his face hardened. "You're a feckless simpleton whose mismanagement constantly threatens to destroy this school."

The dean seemed taken aback. "Abed?"

"You're a bad dean," he said.

"Abed, I… I don't know what to say." The dean blinked back tears.

"Say that no member of my family has ever amounted to anything in the history of Greendale!"

"That was very… I didn't expect you to…" His voice cracked. "Excuse me," he said, brokenly, and dashed off.

"History is gonna change!" Abed called after him. He noticed Jeff and Annie standing, staring at him. "What?"

The pair exchanged glances. "Nothing," they said in unison.

"I'm glad I caught you both. We're doing a _Back to the Future_ homage," Abed explained. "See, yesterday the most incredible thing happened…"

Jeff held up a hand. "I'm going to have to stop you right there. If you finish that sentence, then Annie is going to ask follow-up questions, and then you'll explain, and it'll end up with the two of you dancing to 'Earth Angel' at the dance tonight…"

Annie reddened.

"I was thinking Troy and Britta for that scene, actually," said Abed.

"Really?" Jeff was nonplussed.

Abed sighed. "I know you, Jeff, look at the world through the lens of trying to find excuses to be close to Annie, but…"

And now it was Jeff's turn to redden. "Abed!" he hissed.

"Be that as it may," Annie said carefully, "Jeff and I are going to…" She trailed off, elbowing Jeff.

"I'm not…" Jeff sputtered. "I mean, we… yes. Yes, Annie and I need to go off-campus, for… things that need to be done off of campus. So we won't be participating in your _Back to the Future_ homage."

Annie turned to Jeff, and they exchanged a meaningful glance wherein Jeff nonverbally convinced Annie of the rightness of his words, and Annie enthusiastically went along with it while she pretended to reluctantly go along with it.

"Cool," said Abed.

Jeff and Annie exchanged another nervous glance.

"Cool cool cool," Abed clarified, and they both let out sighs of relief.


	11. The S of the S and the P of L Act 2

THE SPIRIT OF THE STAIRWAY AND THE POWER OF LOVE

ACT 2

* * *

For no particular reason at all, Jeff took her to the Tap House.

In his old life, Jeff had frequented several restaurants on a regular basis. Morty's Steak House for steak. Nirvana for Indian. Masamoto for sushi. The Tap House was for lunch meetings with clients who didn't necessarily realize they would be picking up the bill. The cuisine was neo-American, which was a nice way of saying _upscale chicken and Cobb salads and club sandwiches_ , good enough that he'd relished eating there when he could, and expensive enough that even with the salary he'd been pulling in back then, he didn't go routinely.

The Tap House was good food. He hadn't eaten there since he couldn't remember when… probably at least once since he'd started at Greendale, but Jeff couldn't be sure. It was good food and he wanted some good food. That was the only reason he picked it, he told himself.

In the car on the way over Annie had frowned, when he drove past the shopping center that housed both Señor Kevin's Taqueria and the nearest Mister Wow-That-Burger, without turning in. "Where are we going?"

Jeff grunted. "I just feel like something different," he said.

"Oh, yeah?" He glanced over and saw she had that same half-smile she'd had when she'd accused him of trying to make Disney eyes at her.

"It's my treat," he reminded her. "It's only fair I pick the restaurant."

"Okay," she said, and changed the subject.

She tried to talk him out of it when she saw the actual cloth tablecloths and napkins, and how a significant fraction of the clientele were in suits, and again after they'd been seated and she'd looked at the menu and its prices. He briefly considered lying — claiming he had a gift certificate he needed to use before it expired — but instead he just assured her that he'd taken her there on purpose, knowing full well what kind of place it was.

That got him a sly smile, like she thought he was up to something and she'd figured it out.

Still, she'd ordered the cheapest thing on the menu, a garden salad Jeff knew was meant as a side item. He talked her into taking it with steak tips, then added his own order, an antipasto plate, and two glasses of wine for good measure.

"Did you used to eat like this every day?" she asked him.

"Not every day," he admitted. "Sometimes I missed lunch completely, sometimes I just ran out and got a take-out sandwich at the counter across the street from the office."

"Really," she said in a tone that indicated she didn't fully believe him. "I always pictured three-hour lunches as a regular part of your workday…"

"Hey, just because I made up part of my resume, and just because I hate working and doing things, doesn't mean I was bad at my job," Jeff reminded her. "Sometimes a thing had to be done and I was the only one there to do it."

"Uh huh." Annie sipped her wine carefully.

He felt suddenly self-conscious. "At some point when you're single-handedly steering UCHealth, you'll alternate between power lunches and skipping meals, too, I'm sure."

"Mmm, yeah." There was a comfortable silence, and then she assumed a pensive expression. "I've been thinking about changing my major," she told him.

"Oh? What new field of study would you be smashing with your Annie-powers?"

"It's probably silly." She fidgeted in her seat a moment. "I was looking at the hoops you have to jump through to become an FBI agent."

Jeff looked impressed. "Clarice Starling, Dana Scully, Annie Edison?"

Annie seemed slightly taken aback he wasn't more dismissive of the idea. "It was actually something you said, a while back. I don't know. It's probably silly."

"I don't think so. You are…" He paused, to choose his words carefully. "I don't bet against you," Jeff said simply. "I have no clue what the process is, but if you want it, you can do it."

"More school. Moving to Virginia…"

He froze as Annie took another careful sip of wine. The angel and devil on his shoulders were arguing again.

 _Going to Virginia! Makes sense; that's where Quantico is, right? Definitely she's destined for bigger things than this town._

 _No. Wrong. Can't let her go. Hold her down. Talk her out of this. Keep her here. Clip her wings._

 _Clip her wings?_ The angel of Jeff's better nature clucked its tongue. _Now who's the monster?_

Ignorant of the thoughts racing through Jeff's brain, Annie continued. "But it's just a… you know, a childish fantasy. Troy and Abed rubbing off on me."

"Mmm-hmm." Jeff hoped he sounded unconvinced, rather than hostile to the idea. He forced himself to feel supportive of the idea of Annie going away to become a superhero.

"I'm committed to hospital administration," she asserted, as much to herself as him. "I've spent almost four years on this degree."

"Uh-huh."

"I wrote out my life plan when I was fourteen. Granted, there's been some revision since then. I wasn't planning on a nervous breakdown or an Adderall addiction or Greendale Community College… I was going to go to Harvard and meet my future husband…" She stopped as Jeff raised a hand.

"So maybe, just maybe," he began, "the childish fantasy isn't the one you came up with after you were old enough to legally drink wine at lunch, but rather the one you came up with when you were literally a child?"

"Fourteen isn't really a child…" Annie protested weakly.

"A fantasy of control," Jeff continued. "A fantasy that you can decide at fourteen how the next fifty years of your life will go, that you can control when and where you'll meet the man of your dreams, that you know then who you're going to be and who you're going to want to be, when you grow up. And maybe the mature thing is to look at who you are now, what you want and what you need, what you're good at and what you enjoy doing, who you like to spend your time with. Not your picture of how your life was supposed to be, because the you of ten years ago was an idiot and didn't know all the stuff you've learned since then. And who knows that the you of ten years from now will know, do, want?"

Who was he really trying to convince that she's an adult, he wondered: Annie or himself? Obviously she was old enough to know her own mind, sign binding contracts, buy liquor or vote. There was no reason for Jeff to think he was being predatory or inappropriate. Doubly so, given that he wasn't doing anything except taking a friend to lunch. She was a friend.

But then, why even use the word 'predatory'?

Across the table, away from Jeff's internal maelstrom, Annie looked thoughtful. "Well, maybe…" Then she smiled. "Jeff, are you Winger speeching me?"

He grinned back at her, pushing the dark thoughts away. "Maybe a little…"

* * *

Meanwhile Britta stomped down one of Greendale's hallways, furiously ignoring Chang at her heels.

"Come on, Britta! Come on come on. We both know you're going to say yes eventually, do we have to go through this?"

"No! No means no! How many times can I say _you tried to murder us_?"

"Everyone else has let that go," Chang protested. "You're living in the past, Britta! Chang back to us! Chang back to the future!"

"Chang…" Britta scowled. "Did you just use 'Chang' for 'come?'"

Chang snickered.

"Ew. And for the last time, no! I'm not your friend and I'm not helping you out!"

"Oh, Chang on, Britta! It's not even a big deal! I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend at the dance tonight so I can fool my brother into thinking that I've successfully moved on from my estranged wife and he won't contest the happily-single clause of our great-uncle's will and the suet farm will finally come out of probate and we can sell the stupid tax write-off and I can pay off my credit card debt. It happens every day in America. Just be my date to the stupid dance!"

"No! I already have a date to the stupid dance!"

"Who?" challenged Chang. "That bug, Troy? I'll murder him, just like I tried to murder you!"

"I'm with Troy, he… wait, no, he's meeting us later," Britta recalled. "I'm actually going with Abed." She shuddered with panic. "Oh, God, am I going on a date with Abed?"

"Abed?" spat Chang. "That is not okay!"

"I know, it's weird, right?" Britta stared at the ground, trying to remember why that had made sense. "Why did I agree to that?"

"So don't agree to it — go to the dance with me!"

Britta shook her head, tabling her confusion for the moment. "Chang, I am not going to the dance with you — not to impress your brother, not to indulge Abed, not for a million dollars!" She reconsidered; a million dollars would spay and neuter a lot of feral cats. "Not for less than a million dollars!"

"A million… I work at Greendale, you think I know how much money that is?" Chang counted on his fingers. "There are ten billions in a million, right?"

"No!" Realizing she could simply walk away, Britta spun around and did so.

"I'll show you, Britta Perry!" Chang shouted after her. "Some day I'll know how much a million dollars is, and then watch out!"

* * *

Somewhere along the way they'd transitioned from the restaurant to a coffee shop. Two empty cups sat on the table between them. "So what about you?" Annie was saying. "You told me you're going to open a solo practice when you graduate."

"Did I?" Jeff made a face, and pretended not to remember.

She nodded. "Then you predicted we'd meet randomly years from now and I'd have forgotten your name."

Jeff recalled the conversation clearly. He'd been depressed over the beginning of their last academic year together. He'd nearly said something he would have regretted. "Well, obviously you forgetting my name is not possible," he said.

If she noticed the pause before he'd replied, she didn't acknowledge it. "Your prediction, not mine."

"I've just got to make sure you're never in a position to forget my name." He tilted his head back, pretending to consider. "I could set your phone's wallpaper to a picture of me."

"Oh, but then I'd remember your face, not necessarily your name," she countered.

Jeff liked the way she'd responded so quickly. He could turn it back around on her, though. "That's an easy fix. Add a caption at the bottom. _Jeff Winger: Your Favorite Greendale Memory_."

"Oh?" Annie arched an eyebrow. "In this dystopian future, you're my favorite Greendale memory, but I need to be reminded of that because otherwise I'd forget?"

"That's just the slogan. It's all about advertising the brand," he said lightly.

"You changed the subject," Annie noted, changing it back. "Do you still plan on going into business for yourself?"

He tried to think of a glib response, and failed. "I don't know." Jeff tried to take a sip from his coffee and realized it was empty. "The plan was that I'd go back to my old firm, but that's done. I never wanted to do a private practice, deal with all the business and overhead stuff. I have this sense that it'd be tough row to hoe, because who wants to hire the lawyer who was almost disbarred because he didn't graduate college and he never went to law school?"

"Probably you won't want to play that up in the advertising," Annie counseled him. "Focus instead on how you did pass the bar exam, and how the bar association _didn't_ technically disbar you, they only suspended you. You're such a good lawyer you lawyered the lawyers into letting you lawyer!"

"That'd be a good slogan. It'd really drive home the idea that I'm a lawyer."

"What can I say? I have a gift." She looked smug for a moment.

It frightened Jeff how much he was enjoying himself, so he forced himself not to think about it. "I may be able to scrape together a client list from our time at Greendale," he said instead. "Pierce, obviously. Although I don't know if I could stomach being his attorney. Every day, it'd be 'Pierce, sign a pre-nup,' or 'Pierce, I told you to sign a pre-nup,' or 'no, Pierce, I can't fix this because you wouldn't sign a pre-nup.'"

Annie laughed. "Okay, that… yes. But have you ever thought about doing something else?" She leaned forward. "You just pointed out I was fourteen when I decided to become a hospital administrator. Weren't you ten or something, when you decided you wanted to be a lawyer?"

"I'm good at it, though," he protested. "I'm such a good lawyer that I lawyered the lawyers into letting me lawyer, remember?"

"Yes, yes." She nodded dismissively. "Still, just ask yourself if it's what you _want_ to do."

Jeff snickered. "Annie, when you get to be my age —"

"You're thirty-four. I've seen your driver's license."

"Still. World of difference between thirty-four and twenty-one."

"Thirteen years. Really only twelve," she added, "because you just had a birthday and mine is in a couple of months."

"They're twelve important years," Jeff insisted. "They're the time you get to spend screwing around making bad choices about your life path, and still have enough time later in life to correct them with no lasting damage."

She shook her head. "So, what? If your fake degree hadn't been caught until this year, say, you'd just be like, 'well, too old now to start fresh, not like when I was thirty, better just give up and drink, bluh bluh bluh, scotch scotch scotch.' That's what you'd sound like."

"I'm a real lush in that timeline, apparently. What do you think I should be doing, then?" he asked her.

Annie looked down at the table. "I don't know," she said.

"Well, you must have some idea." When she didn't reply, he pressed her a bit. "Annie…"

"Okay, okay, fine," she said, admitting defeat. "I made a list." She pulled out her phone and called up a memo. "Consultant," she read aloud, "beccause you're good at sounding like you know what's best. Lobbyist: you're good at getting people to do things for you. In-house counsel for a non-profit: they'd offer to pay you so little you wouldn't be overshadowed by other applicants who _hadn't_ been suspended by the bar association. Teacher slash professor: you know the dean would hire you in a heartbeat, and teaching would make you feel smart. Full-time homemaker slash primary caregiver parent with a careerist spouse: I think you'll make the right woman extremely happy to have you as her life partner someday. Motivational speaker: again, right in your wheelhouse. Magistrate judge: legal background, plus you make important choices and sound authoritative. Career counselor: um…"

"Career counselor?" he repeated.

"Yeah, I know. That was the last one." She looked embarrassed, which on her was almost unbearably adorable. "I was reading a book on career counseling at the time."

"In case I came to you and said, Annie, help counsel me on changing careers?"

She gestured around them. "Well, it happened, didn't it?"

* * *

Back at Greendale, out in the quad, Pierce was struggling into a lab coat. "I don't see why I have to wear this," he complained. "It's my RC DeLorean, after all."

"I've told you," Abed said. "You're Doc Brown."

"Wait, I'm Christopher Lloyd? I thought I was the burly charismatic one, Biff." Pierce adjusted his coat. "Why aren't I Biff? Is Biff gay? Is Jeff Biff?"

"We've gone over this. Chang is Biff."

"Well that's just bad casting. Chang looks nothing like Biff," grumbled Pierce. "Is it too late to change?"

"I only have a few minutes for this before I have to go pretend to sexually assault Britta," Abed said. He checked his wristwatch. "I got a wristwatch just for this."

"Wait, wait, Britta is playing the Tea Leoni part, not Annie?"

"Lea Thompson," said Abed.

"Aybed, you're going about this all wrong." Pierce gave up on trying to button the lab coat. "Speaking as someone who saw all three _Back to the Future_ movies in the theater, it's obvious. You should be planning to pretend to sexually assault Annie, but then Jeff comes in and pulls you off her, and finally… well, I guess it could be Troy. Troy comes in and tells Jeff to get his damn hands off her, and then punches the gay bully right in his gay bully face!" Pierce smacked his fist into his hand, for emphasis.

"I've heard and appreciate your notes, Pierce, but we're going another direction." Abed busied himself placing the model DeLorean at a line he'd marked on the cement with chalk. "Also," he added, looking up, "generally when we talk about _Back to the Future_ we try to downplay the date-rape plot point."

"Fair enough."

* * *

Back in the coffee shop, Jeff and Annie's conversation had drifted to how Jeff had never been skiing, despite living in Colorado his entire life.

Annie chortled. "How is that even possible? I was skiing in preschool. I was one of those little babies in adorable baby-sized snowsuits that you see on the bunny slope."

"Yes, you grew up in a solid gold house with diamond shoes and a bunch of servants I'm sure," Jeff said. "Mom couldn't afford lessons."

She clucked her tongue apologetically. "Even so, it seems like the kind of gung-ho flashy thing you'd be into. Showing off for ski bunnies…" Annie waggled her eyebrows at him.

"There were a couple of school trips," he admitted. "And one big firm-wide thing, a few years ago. But I didn't want anyone to know I didn't already know how to, and…" He shook his head.

She lifted her chin, looked him in the eye, and covered his hand with hers. "I will teach you to ski," she announced.

"It may be too late for me," he said solemnly. "I don't know if I could fit into an adorable baby-sized snowsuit…"

As she laughed, Annie's phone buzzed for the eighth or ninth time. She finally checked it, and did a double take. "Oh, God, it's almost six."

"What? No, it's…" Jeff checked his watch. "Shit. Wow. Yeah." He tried not to think about how he'd just spent literal hours chatting with Annie Edison, with no sense of running out of things to say or even of the passage of time. "That explains why the barista's been glaring at us."

"Has she?" Annie asked anxiously. She looked around, searching for an angry glare aimed her way.

Jeff chuckled. "No, no, it's fine. They don't close for another half-hour."

"Still, we've been sitting her for like four hours, we should get more coffee or something. Sort of pay rent on the table."

He shrugged. "They could ask us to leave, but then all the guys would go, too. Probably cost them more business than the table'd generate otherwise."

"The guys?"

"The guys who only came in here because they saw you in the window and they can't believe how good you look."

She did that thing she did sometimes, where her head bobbed and she looked pleased and embarrassed at the same time. "All the guys ogling Annie. I'm amazed you didn't go with 'all the women ogling Jeff.'"

"I call them like I see them. And," Jeff added, "I figured that went without saying."

"Have you checked your phone?" Annie asked him, indicating hers.

Jeff hadn't — the only person whose texts he was ever interested in was sitting across from him — so he dug his out and began scrolling through the messages. A moment later he let out a low whistle.

"I know, right? We should go back to campus before Abed electrocutes somebody." Annie grabbed her purse and rose to leave.

"You don't think Pierce can… I don't even know. Safely send him back in time?" Jeff asked as he stood.

"Not back in time. Back to… the future!" That last part was pronounced grandly, and louder than Annie had meant it to, judging from the embarrassed way she acknowledged the other customers' curious glances.

* * *

Storm clouds rolled in as they drove back to campus and Jeff fretted that they'd get rained on. Still, though they reached the main hall in advance of any falling rain, he hesitated on the steps.

Annie noticed his reticence and turned to him, saying nothing but giving him a questioning look.

"We don't have to go in," Jeff said.

"Hm?" She sounded bemused.

He tried to come up with a way to articulate that he'd enjoyed the day more than any in recent memory, that being off-campus with her and out in the world had felt like a special occasion, one he wasn't ready to end. "Uh…" _Dammit, Jeff, you're a lawyer_ , he thought. _Talk your way out of this! Use words!_

Suddenly Troy bounded around the corner of the library and spotted them on the steps. "You guys!" He skidded to a halt. "You guys!"

"What? What is it?" Annie asked him.

"Do you know where Britta parked? I'm supposed to be pulling Abed off of her in the back seat of her car, but I can't find her! I need to be there in…" He checked the time on his phone. "Six minutes ago!"

"That's okay," Jeff said, trying to calm Troy down. "I'm sure Abed…"

"But it might not be Abed!" Troy almost shouted. "It might be Chang! Abed was really confusing about that!"

Annie had her own phone out and was placing a call. She held up a finger. "Hello, Britta? Is anybody molesting you? Uh huh? Huh. Okay, good." She pulled the phone away from her mouth long enough to say "Britta says she was waiting for you and Abed in her car, Chang showed up and tried to get into the car, she started the car and almost ran him over, and then she drove to her apartment because she never actually agreed to play Lorraine."

"Who's Lorraine?" Troy asked.

"Troy," said Jeff, "have you ever seen _Back to the Future_?"

Troy shrugged. "I dunno, I guess? Yeah. I think I have. Why?"

Jeff patted him on the back. "You should go to Britta's."

"She does sound pretty upset," Annie said, off the phone. "No no, I'm still here," she told the phone. "Yeah. We're sending Troy over, is that okay? Great." She hung up and said "Britta says yeah, come over."

Troy looked torn. "But Abed needs us at the dance!"

"Jeff and I will take care of it," Annie said, smiling at Troy. Without taking her eyes off Troy, she lightly swatted Jeff on the arm as he stood next to her.

"Absolutely," Jeff agreed.

Troy nodded uncertainly, but dashed off into the night.

"Well, that happened," Jeff said. "All's well that ends well. You want to go get a drink?"

"Jeff! We promised Troy we'd dance!"

"But that was an idle promise!" Jeff looked pained as Annie made eyes at him. "Fine."

He smiled as she flounced smugly up to him, enjoying the moment.

Jeff extended his arm, to walk her into the dance. "Milady?"

She smiled shyly. "Milord."


	12. The S of the S and the P of L Act 3

THE SPIRIT OF THE STAIRWAY AND THE POWER OF LOVE

ACT 3

* * *

A stage was set up at the front of the cafeteria, where a student band was working slowly through the hits of the 1990s. Shirley climbed up onto the stage platform and exchanged a few words with the band. From the dance floor it was impossible to hear the argument, but it seemed heated. Eventually Shirley intimidated the band into agreeing to whatever her request was, and claimed the vocalist's microphone. "I just want to say, there's a real shortage of quality roles for women of color in the films of Robert Zemeckis," Shirley intoned into the microphone. "But because I am a team player, I will now sing 'Earth Angel.'"

There was a modicum of scattered applause. The band began to play a garbled but recognizable version of the song's lead-in.

" _Earth Angel, Earth Angel,"_ Shirley sang, _"I don't know the woo-oords…My darling dear, I don't know the words to Earth Angel…_ "

"She's got a good voice," Jeff said to Annie.

"Mmm-hmm." Annie stared up at Jeff and he stared down at her. She cleared her throat, meaningfully.

"Care to dance?" Jeff asked her, taking the hint.

"If you insist!" She took him by the hand and led him out onto the floor.

Slow dancing with Annie seemed like such a natural evolution of the day that it almost didn't hit Jeff just how terrifying it was. Scratch that — inappropriate. _Annie is your favorite person_ , _yes_ , some reluctant part of him was admitting, _but she's like your spunky kid sister._

 _That isn't true_ , came another, deeper urge. _That has never been true, and you can't keep pretending._

Jeff roiled with emotions, utterly engrossed by the hot, soft, lithe body pressing up against his, her lips slightly parted, her eyes-half lidded. He could feel his pulse quicken, as his body responded against his will to the beautiful, wonderful, brilliant women he was…

Staring into her eyes, he completely lost his train of thought. His head was tilted down, hers up, as she didn't come up to his shoulders even in heels.

"You're awfully quiet," she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.

"I'm just enjoying the moment," he said.

"Moment's going to pass," she said, and then he couldn't stop himself: he kissed her.

* * *

For a moment Annie thought she'd gone blind, but then she realized the lights had gone out. The lights going out was way less important than Jeff bending down and kissing her — hey, going blind seemed less important — so she just shut her eyes and enjoyed it. The music had stopped and everyone around them was talking and none of it mattered, not just then.

She pulled back, after a moment, but he pressed against her, willing her to turn her face to his, and she did, and he was walking her sideways, off the dance floor and away from the crowd, and then her back was against a wall and his hands were sliding down her body and lifting her, from the hips, pinning her with her feet dangling, limply kicking, until she wrapped her legs around him like he was a tree she'd climbed.

"Jeff," she managed to say when he finally straightened up. She was breathless, and she could feel him breathing heavily against her.

"Hi?" Jeff offered, with a sort of embarrassed chuckle.

She moved her legs and shimmied. He got the picture and stopped pressing her against the wall, allowing her to slide down several inches until her feet once again touched the floor.

He took a couple of extra steps back. "Well," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "that sure was a… yeah."

"Jeff Winger!" Annie was delighted. "Are you at a loss for words?"

"Little bit, maybe."

She folded her arms and leaned back against the wall, watching him.

"What?" he asked.

"Take your time," she told him. She couldn't hide her smile any longer, and resorted to covering her mouth. "You can do it."

Jeff stammered. "Um. Yeah. Uh… you want to, uh… Annie, we've known…" He let out another sheepish laugh. "Are you really going to make me…?"

She nodded.

"Okay then." Jeff cleared his throat. "Annie Edison…" He trailed off. "Um…"

There was a long silence. Finally Annie couldn't stand it any more. "Yes?" she prompted.

"Right. Yes." Jeff nodded decisively. "Would you like to come back to my place?"

* * *

The smile she'd been failing to conceal died instantly, and Jeff knew he'd said the wrong thing. There were so many wrong things to say. None of the old pick-up lines he'd used in the pre-Annie… the pre-Greendale days, none of them would work and he rejected them all out of hand.

 _Annie Edison, care to make out in that supply closet?_ That was the first thing that had come to mind, but it didn't seem fitting with the way she was looking at him.

 _Annie Edison, can I drive you home?_ Then she'd get out of the car and go inside and he wouldn't be with her any more, which wasn't acceptable.

 _Annie Edison, can I buy you coffee/buy you a drink/take you to dinner/take you to dinner someplace fancy?_ He'd already taken her to lunch today, adding another meal wouldn't change anything.

 _Annie Edison,_ _would you please-please be my girlfriend? I want to hold your hand and do boyfriend things._ That was not how human beings talked to one another, at least not after junior high school.

 _Annie Edison, I love you._ Stop. No. No no no. Way too… not 'soon,' given they'd known each other for years, but inappropriate and also junior-high-school-y and _also_ he'd had to bite his tongue to stop it from coming out despite all these reservations. Down that road Jeff could see himself begging her to move in with him, to marry him, to bear his children (names came unbidden to mind: Sebastian for a boy, Shirley for a girl). To let him be her champion against the world's wrongs. He clamped down hard on that whole line of thought because it was _not helping_.

Jeff realized she was still looking at him. "Or your place?" he added, lamely.

She turned away, and began walking away — stomping, really. Stricken, Jeff found himself hoping she was enraged, because he couldn't see her face and she wasn't saying anything and if she wasn't enraged then she was crying…

* * *

She didn't want him to see her cry, so she turned and walked away as quickly as she could, hoping to reach her car before the sobs started.

Incredibly, he came after her, like he could talk to her and she'd come around and boom, he'd get sex. That was what the whole day had been about, in his mind, apparently. What it had been about in her mind… didn't matter. He'd walked her down a path to get her into bed, the way he had with so many other women. Probably she hadn't even rated the most effort he'd put forth; he'd actually called himself Professor Slater's boyfriend, back in freshman year. No, Annie was, in Jeff's mind, just like Britta. A fuck-buddy, nothing important, nothing but a notch in the bedpost.

The realization stung her. It stung her, how much it stung her; she'd let herself get so invested in an _idea_ of Jeff that wasn't, it turned out, the real thing.

It stung her, how close she'd come just now to swallowing her pride and just going along with it, half a loaf better than none. Just to get him out of her system.

He was walking alongside her now. "Annie! Annie, I'm sorry!"

Annie broke into a run, which put some distance between them, but her inexperience in high heels betrayed her: she tripped and fell.

She seethed, which at least was better than sobbing, until he came forward and tried to help her up. "Get away!" she barked, willing herself not to bawl.

Jeff held his hands up over his head, as he squatted next to her. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, that was the opposite of what I wanted…"

"Of course it was." She took deep breaths and concentrated on inhaling and exhaling. It helped.

"No, I… seriously, just tell me what to say, and…"

"It's not about saying the right words, Jeff," Annie told him coldly, or she tried to sound cold at least. Focusing on how Jeff was trying to lawyer-talk his way out of it helped her calm down. "You always do this, like people are boxes you just have to feed the right inputs into and what you want comes out…"

"No! That's not it at all!" He sounded desperate, like a used car salesman in cartoons, when the customer started walking off the lot.

"Okay, well, what is it, then?"

He looked pained, and said nothing.

She gave him a good five seconds to come up with something, anything, anything at all to change her mind. She _wanted_ him to change her mind, she realized. And even then, he wasn't able; he couldn't even be bothered to make the attempt.

"Good-bye, Jeff," she told him, and left.

* * *

Across campus, Pierce and Abed huddled over an open breaker box. "I told you this wasn't going to work," Pierce said. "We need way more power!"

"Go out, put the DeLorean back in position, and send it down the street again," Abed instructed him. "I'll reset the breaker right as the hook hits the wire."

"Fine, if you think that'll work." From his tone, Pierce plainly didn't. He turned, and saw out the open exterior door to the parking lot outside. "Jeez, would you look at that?" It had started raining, hard. A flash of lightning and crack of thunder punctuated the moment. "I don't want to go out in that."

Abed straightened up. "Pierce."

"This thing we're doing, it doesn't even really make any sense..."

"Pierce! One point twenty-one jigga-watts."

Pierce sighed. "Tell you what, Ay-bed, you go grab everybody. We'll all go back to my place, order pizza, and watch the whole trilogy on my home theater. Make some popcorn, have a good time. Out of the rain."

There was a pause before Abed spoke. "Fine. The rain doesn't start until after the lightning anyway."

* * *

Jeff sat alone, in the rain, on the steps for several minutes after she left. Once he'd sat there for a half a minute or so, it didn't seem like more sitting was going to make him any wetter or more miserable. While he sat he experienced _l'esprit de l'escalier_ , the spirit of the stairway: the thing you think of on your way out, that you would have said if only you'd thought of it.

 _Annie Edison_ , _you are my favorite person, beautiful and brilliant and dedicated. Everything is better when you're with me. Let's see where this goes, together_.

He tried texting it to her, but she didn't respond.

* * *

About a mile away, Britta and Troy lounged together on a sofa that was essentially upholstered with cat hair. She lifted her head from where it rested on his chest. "Troy."

"Hmm?" Troy's eyes were closed, his arms around Britta, his cat allergies under control with the antihistamine he'd started taking on a daily basis. Life was good.

"Do you think Marty is a good name for a kid?" she asked.

Troy bolted upright. "What?"

"Marty, do you —"

"Are you trying to tell me something?" His face was grave.

"What? No. No!" Britta tried to press him back down onto the couch, but he resisted. "You doof, no. I was just thinking about _Back to the Future_ …"

"Why is everybody talking about that movie today? I just got a text from Abed inviting us over to Pierce's to see it."

Britta raised an eyebrow. "All day Abed's been…"

Troy punched a pillow in frustration. "Kid gets kidnapped by aliens, rides around in a UFO with the voice of Pee-Wee Herman for a while, goes back in time from the 80s to the 70s. What's that got to do with Abed? What's that got to do with anything?"

Britta stared at him. "That's _Flight of the Navigator_. Which…"

She was interrupted by an insistent knock at her door.

"Hold that thought." Britta rose and answered the door. She started to close it again, as soon as she saw who it was, but Chang stuck his foot in the frame.

"Ow!" He pulled his foot back and hopped a bit on his other leg. "That really hurts!"

"What do you want, Chang?"

Chang scowled. "I was thinking about my actions and I decided alone without any input from anyone, especially my Rabbi brother, that I should make it up to you guys. So even though it's totally playing to the stereotype, I'm going to wash and wax your car. 'Wax on, wax off,' you know? From _Karate Kid_."

There was a crack of thunder, and the power in Britta's apartment building blinked.

"I mean, not right this second, obviously," Chang said.


	13. Interlude: Jeff on the steps

Jeff Winger sat on the steps, in the rain, and thought about what had just happened. Annie Edison, a girl he was fond of — a friend, quite apart from her being a beautiful and intelligent woman — had just stomped off angrily, all but ordering him never to speak to her again. Moments before that he'd succumbed to temptation, after fighting it all day, and kissed her. Kissed her and swept her literally off her feet, in fact.

That part she hadn't seemed to mind. The part immediately afterwards was when he'd ruined everything. She'd prompted him to… what? She'd wanted him to say something. He'd panicked, tried to guess at her intention, rejected a whole series of things he might have said, and suggested they retire back to his apartment instead. That part she'd minded.

He had chased after her, down the hall, but hadn't been able to produce whatever magic words she'd wanted, and now he was here, alone, sitting on the steps of a darkened Greendale, in the rain.

His phone buzzed. He hunched over and leaned to one side, shielding it from the rain, as he checked it, but it wasn't a message from Annie.

 **ABED to JEFF (CELL); TROY; ANNIE (CELL); BRITTA; SHIRLEY:**

 **Back to the Future viewing party at Pierce's, ASAP**

He'd just put the phone away when it buzzed again. His heart skipped a beat and he felt his stomach clench when he saw this text was from Annie.

 **ANNIE (CELL) to ABED; TROY; BRITTA; SHIRLEY; JEFF (CELL):**

 **Just got home, exhausted, you guys have fun**

 **[moon emoji] [tired eyes emoji] [snoring emoji]**

Annie had copied him on the text deliberately, Jeff was sure. She was letting him know she wouldn't be at Pierce's, meaning Jeff could go. Or, he thought hopefully, she was signaling to him that she'd be alone in her apartment tonight…?

He sighed, and wiped rainwater out of his eyes. No. He couldn't make himself believe for a moment that had been her intention. She'd been incensed at his suggestion they go to either his or her apartment together, after all. She'd wanted… what had she wanted?

Jeff's mind went back to all the thoughts that had rushed through his head, when she'd been clearing her throat and looking at him expectantly and hiding a smile. She hadn't doubted that he'd known what to say, it occurred to him. Her anger had been from shock as much as disappointment; she'd considered it some kind of formality.

 _Well_ , Reason asked him, her voice cranky, _what would she expect in that moment?_

He'd had to bite his tongue to keep from sounding like a junior high school boy, Jeff protested silently. She knew him; she knew he wasn't a junior high school boy. She couldn't have been expecting him to say _please be my girlfriend I want to be your boyfriend_ , and the first thing that had come to him after that was even worse.

 _People have girlfriends. People are boyfriends,_ Reason told him. Reason sat next to him on the steps, her small body shivering slightly in the cold rain.

If Reason had actually been there, had actually been Annie, then he would have offered her his jacket.

 _You're changing the subject_ , Reason chided him. _In the heat of the moment you almost told her you loved her, then backed away. Cowardice._

 _Or pragmatism,_ came the voice of Pride, striding in to Jeff's rescue. _Love is ridiculous. Especially under these circumstances._

 _These circumstances?_ asked Reason.

 _She's basically a child._ Pride sat down on Jeff's other side, his gray hair wet from rain and his glasses fogged up.

 _She knows enough to make up her own mind, not have him make it for her,_ retorted Reason.

Pride harrumphed. _She could never be his equal, only his… his plaything._

 _Maybe once that was true, but she's grown since then. When's the last time she lost an argument with him?_ countered Reason. _When's the last time he didn't do something she asked him to?_

 _He refuses her all the time._

 _No. He tries to refuse her, but in the end he always bends. Always._

 _He'd only hurt her. He'd only use her. He'd only ruin her._

 _She deserves at least the chance to decide that._

 _He's a monster; that's what monsters do. There's no shame in knowing your limitations._

 _Are you sure you're Pride talking?_ Reason asked. _You don't sound like Pride._

 _Of course I'm Pride,_ he replied, shifting uneasily. _Who else is there?_

Lost in thought, Jeff barely noticed when a car pulled up in front of the steps. He couldn't make out any details in the rain and darkness.

 _He knew what she wanted him to say,_ Reason declared.

 _He's been sitting here trying to figure it out!_ Pride, if it was Pride, barked.

The car turned off, the diver's side door opened, and a faintly familiar figure emerged.

 _He was just afraid to say it and afraid to admit that to himself,_ continued Reason as though she hadn't been interrupted.

 _Bull_ , said Reason's opposite. _What's the worst that could have happened? She'd have rejected him, and oh look, where are we now?_

 _We're on familiar ground, is where we are._

"Excuse me!" The cry cut through the rain and wind, and roused Jeff from his train of thought.

He looked up, Reason and Fear temporarily silenced. "What?"

"I'm afraid you can't stay here!" the man called. He approached, and his dark clothes congealed into a police uniform. He held an umbrella that he thoughtfully tilted to cover Jeff.

"Officer Cackowski," Jeff said, recognizing the man.

"Hey, you know my name. That's great." The cop loomed over Jeff. "Campus is closed, no vagrancy, buddy. Get yourself home." Peering closer, Cackowski seemed to recognize him. "You're one of the Greendale Seven, aren't you? Jed? Jeb? Jethro?"

"Jeff Winger." Jeff considered recounting the time Cackowski had conspired with Sean Garrity, the drama teacher, to give him and Annie a lesson about prop gun safety. "I'm allowed to be on campus; the board rescinded the restraining order."

"Yeah, well, nobody's allowed on campus after ten," said the cop. "You got a car?"

"It's not…" Jeff checked his phone, and for the second time that day, was surprised at the time. "Okay, fine."

Cackowski extended a hand and helped Jeff rise to his feet. "Whew, you've been sitting there a while, huh?" the cop asked. "I'll walk you to your car."

"It's not like I can get any wetter," Jeff said. He acceded to the escort anyway, on the grounds that he could, in fact, get wetter.

"Man sits in the rain for hours, he's got something on his mind," Cackowski said ruminatively. "Heartache?"

Jeff bobbed his head as they walked. "Something like that."

"Well, none of my business," Cackowski said briskly.

Jeff nodded. "There's this girl Annie," he said. "She's a student here. She was in the Greendale Seven, too. I've known her for, oh, a few years now."

The cop grunted, as if to communicate _I can't ask you to be quiet without coming across as rude_.

"We've kind of had a thing for… I don't know how long. Spring of 2010 we kissed, which was a mistake, and then for a while I was sleeping with our friend Britta, which she didn't know about. I broke that off when she found out."

Cackowski let out a resigned sigh. "Uh huh."

"But that was a year and a half ago. Since then we've just been friends. She's a good kid, you know? She'll be twenty-two in a couple months."

"I figured she had to be at least eighteen," said the cop, "or you probably wouldn't be talking to me about her."

"I mean, yes, she's gorgeous, and yes, she's brilliant, and yes, somehow she's into me despite my treating her badly for so long, which I don't know how I could ever make right…"

"Sounds like a real firecracker," Cackowski said absently.

"And yes, she's my favorite person and yes, everything is better when it's with her, and yes, I love her, and…" Jeff trailed off, eyes wide with wonder at his own words.

 _I told you_ , Reason told Fear smugly. _Didn't I tell you?_

 _Yeah, well, too little too late,_ grumbled Fear.

Eventually Cackowski glanced Jeff's way. "Was that a personal revelation? Good for you, buddy."

"But I'd be terrible for her," Jeff said slowly. He swallowed. "I'd use her, and break her. I don't want to, but I couldn't help it. I don't think anyone could be good enough for her. Definitely not me."

 _He knows she's not a literal angel, right?_ Reason asked Fear. _She's got a real controlling streak, off the top of my head._

 _Well, there you go,_ said Fear. _It couldn't possibly work out between them anyway. Think how their views on child-raising would disagree!_

 _That's looking pretty far down the line,_ observed Reason.

"Wow, you really managed to park at the far end of the lot," Cackowski peered through the darkness as Jeff's car finally became visible. "So," he continued, because he hated awkward silences, "how's she feel about it? She shoot you down?"

"No." Jeff rubbed the back of his neck. "Not exactly. I said a dumb thing when she wanted me to say something else. It doesn't matter."

"Not to me, it doesn't," Cackowski agreed. "Probably you should talk to her about it. If she's the perfect angel you say, she's bound to listen."

"Uh huh," Jeff said, considering. "I mean, no." He shook his head. "I don't know what I'd even say."

"Well, take some time, think it over. Just don't do it here." Cackowski adjusted the umbrella as they reached Jeff's car. The two men stood there a moment: Jeff lost in thought, the cop watching him. Eventually Cackowski cleared his throat. "You gonna…?"

"Right, right." Jeff chuckled nervously. He unlocked his car and climbed in.

"You drive safe now," Cackowski said.

"Thanks, officer," Jeff said, as he closed the door.

 _Excellent!_ Fear, in the back seat, rubbed his hands together. _Home, and scotch. Maybe Netflix… wait, what's he doing?_

Jeff had gotten his phone back out and composed a text to Annie.

 **JEFF (CELL) to ANNIE (CELL):**

 **Annie Edison, you are my favorite person, beautiful and brilliant and dedicated. Everything is better when you're with me. Let's see where this goes, together.**

 _I think that's a lovely sentiment,_ Reason announced from the passenger seat, as Jeff sent it.

 _It's a bad idea,_ said Fear, shaking his head. _Three to one she doesn't respond._

 _I'm sure she will_ , Reason assured him. _She's forgiven him worse than this._

 _Well, maybe she's finally learned her lesson_ , mused Fear. _And at best he gets another chance to make the same mistake. Even if he is finally willing to admit to himself he's in love_ , _can he tell her?_

 _Surely he can,_ Reason said brightly. She considered. _He might need the weekend to work himself up to it,_ she admitted. _But then, nothing but blue skies._

 _We'll see,_ Fear said, as Jeff drove home through the rainy night.


	14. Ichthyic Cycling Act 1

A/N: Thanks to Amrywiol and Bethanyactually, who both contributed to this being better than it would have been otherwise.

* * *

ICHTHYIC CYCLING

ACT 1

* * *

Early Monday morning at Greendale the campus was quiet and misty. Dew, collected overnight, had yet to burn off the grass in the quad. The usual bright sunlight was absent, in favor of a half-light that Jeff usually saw only when he'd stayed up all night. The things we do for love, he thought as he stared at his reflection in the men's room mirror. Love, he thought again, tasting the word in his mouth. He'd stopped by Shirley's Sandwiches but Shirley hadn't been there yet; it was too early. So instead he had to give himself the encouragement he needed.

The man in the reflection looked haggard and anxious, but then, he'd hardly slept all weekend. Thursday night he'd stumbled home soaking wet and acutely alone. Abed had texted him about going to Pierce's, but he'd ignored it. He'd spent Friday lying in bed staring at his phone, writing texts to Annie and deleting them unsent. Texts and voicemails from his other friends he deleted unread; he'd been in no mood to talk to anyone.

That was the old Jeff, though. That was last week's Jeff, he told himself. He was a new creature now, forged in the fire of sitting morosely in his apartment for three days binge-watching _the West Wing_ , drinking, and transforming himself, by sheer force of will, into someone who could finally think and speak honestly about his feelings. He'd showered, he'd shaved, he'd cleaned himself up, he'd put on his best blue button-down shirt, and now he was going to start to fix things. All he needed to do was talk to Annie, he was sure, and they could work this out. He'd gone over it in his head dozens of times and he understood where he'd failed, and how, and what he should have said to her instead.

The key was historiography. Chang himself didn't come to their scheduled classes, Jeff knew, but Annie did. He'd come to her, not swaggering and false, but not on his knees, either. He'd apologize, and explain, and at worst things would go back to how they'd been.

* * *

The door to the historiography classroom was, uncharacteristically, closed. A window set in the door confirmed that there were lights on within, but a curtain hung down and prevented Jeff from seeing Annie. She was in there, though, surely. Hesitating at the threshold, he stood with his hand on the knob for a moment. Then he knocked, lightly.

He tensed, waiting there, and felt himself a coward for not just striding in. He should have brought flowers after all, he decided while he stood there. Jeff had considered it but decided that had struck too much of a note of artifice, of falsehood. Flowers, in Jeff's mind, smacked of trickery and playing to expectations. It was important that she see him and recognize that he wasn't being anything but honest.

Jeff inhaled sharply as the latched clicked and the door opened, then slowly sighed as Pierce opened the door.

"Pierce, hi," Jeff said as brightly as he could manage. He hoped he didn't sound desperate. Then he backtracked on that: it was fine if he sounded desperate. He was desperate.

"She asked me to tell you no, Jeffrey," Pierce said without preamble. "I'm sorry." He did look sorry, too; his haggard expression closely resembled the one Jeff had seen in the mirror.

"Annie?" Jeff craned his neck, trying to see her over Pierce's shoulder. She wasn't in the narrow slice of classroom that was visible. "Annie, I'm so sorry. I know words alone aren't going to solve this, but… I'm sorry."

Pierce cleared his throat.

"Pierce, please." Jeff stared at Pierce. Pierce shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking uncomfortable, then glanced over his shoulder at something or someone beyond Jeff's range of vision.

Pierce shrugged helplessly. "Sorry, Jeff." He closed the door.

Jeff raised his fist to pound on the door, then slowly let it drop; that wasn't going to do any good. He rested his forehead against the inset window's cool glass, and sagged against it.

* * *

Pierce stood on the other side of the door several minutes before discreetly slipping the closed curtain aside. "I think he's gone," he called over his shoulder.

At the front of the classroom, in a corner well away from the door, Annie glanced briefly up from the textbook she'd been reading. "Thanks," she said, her voice thick. She looked like she might say more, but then shook her head, thinking better of it, and buried her face deeper in the book.

"I know Jeff and I seem at odds sometimes," Pierce said as he approached her. "We have a, I suppose you'd call it a special connection. Two alpha males, both strong-willed… you could say I see some of myself in him. I know he thinks of me as a father figure."

"Uh huh," Annie said without lifting her gaze from the same paragraph she'd been reading for the last twenty minutes.

"I don't know what this is about, between you two, but I've never seen him act like that," Pierce continued. "Is he a good man? Maybe not. But is his heart in the right place? Again, the answer is probably not. Is he even straight? I think we both know that's not completely true…"

Annie slammed the textbook down. "What are you saying, Pierce?" she snapped, then softened immediately. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Thanks for guarding the door."

"You know I support any decision you make," Pierce said. "You're my favorite, and I trust you to know your own mind, because I'm an enlightened, emotionally sensitive male. Back in the Seventies we had encounter groups, which were great for picking up… uh, that's a story for another time. But would it hurt anything to hear Jeff out?"

"Yup. It'd hurt me," Annie said. She'd turned her attention back to the paragraph she'd been reading, with renewed vigor. "Jeff can… he'll say anything." She swallowed, blinking back tears. "Three years ago I would believe whatever he said, because I didn't know any better. Two years ago I believed him even though I should have known better. Last year I wanted to believe and he was good enough not to say anything, and I thought he'd changed. But he'll say whatever he needs to, to get what he wants. Or thinks he wants." She glanced at the door, imagining movement through the curtain. "I've already forgiven him too many times. Given him more slack than he deserves. I'm out."

Pierce sighed as he settled into a seat near her. "I'll tell him that next time I see him. He comes to me for advice, you know. Looking for my guidance."

She didn't look up. "Tell him, don't tell him, either way. I told him all that on Thursday, at Abed's stupid _Back to the Future_ dance. If he doesn't want to hear it, he won't hear it."

He cleared his throat. "So, you on track to graduate in the spring?"

Annie did look up for that one. "What?"

"I'm changing the subject to one a little less fraught. You're my favorite, I consider myself a feminist, et cetera et cetera, but, you know, bros before hoes. No disrespect intended," Pierce said quickly. "I think the expression was originally about gardening tools. You're graduating in June, right?"

Annie nodded, slowly. "Yeah. Are you?"

"I'm not actually making progress towards a degree, I'm just a lifelong learner. No big. I'm no hero." Pierce stretched in his seat. "What do you have planned for after you graduate?"

"Um, look for a job I guess," Annie began. She closed the textbook in front of her, which she'd read basically none of in the last half-hour anyway. "I have a list of area hospitals and clinics that offer internships… I haven't updated it in a few years. I've been thinking about doing something else." She looked pensive. "I thought I'd talk to Jeff about it, but I guess I won't. Huh."

"What's the something else?" Pierce asked. He was eager to keep the conversation off of Jeff, if possible.

"Law school." Off Pierce's baffled expression, she added, "I know, I know, the world doesn't need more lawyers and law school graduates are most likely to end up with a ton of debt and the job prospects aren't great and I don't really want to be a lawyer anyway."

"If you don't want to be a lawyer, which I heartily approve of, as there are too many lawyers already, then why law school?"

"Well, first because I think maybe I'd be good at it, and second because it's one of the degrees that the FBI looks for in applicants. But they also look for people with good work experience, and it would probably be better to be making money than spending it on more school, and I haven't been doing LSAT prep or working on law school applications."

"Is it too late to start?" he asked.

Annie shrugged. "Kind of? The application deadlines aren't until February most places, and you can take the LSAT in December, but there are a bunch of fees and it's too late to take a prep course I think. And I don't really have the money to…"

"I'll pay your fees," Pierce said abruptly. "Whatever you need. LSAT, MCAT, GRE, SATs… are SATs still a thing? Tuition, too, if you need that."

Annie did a double take. "Pierce!"

"I realize I haven't done the best job with lending you money in the past, but this would just be a gift, no strings attached. I mean, I know your generation thinks it's cool and hot and fat to be saddled with debt," he continued, "but you people already have enough of that from all the consumer electronics and health care you buy."

She managed a weak smile. "I can't take your money to…"

"Sure you can. What else am I going to do with it? Pay Uncle Sugar estate taxes, and then the money'll end up in the hands of idiots." He grimaced at the thought. "Whereas if I give it to you for school, then it ends up in the hands of… well, it ends up in the hands of school administrators, so that's a lateral move, but at least you benefit."

Her smile remained weak and forced. "That's really sweet of you to offer, but I don't think I can take your money. And you don't have to offer it, just to keep me as a friend."

"I know that! But don't say no so quickly. Think about it, then say no," Pierce urged her. "Or yes. At least apply to a few schools, and then when you're looking the tuition bill in the face you can… well, think about it."

* * *

Several hours later Britta, Troy, Abed, and Shirley sat in the study room, playing with their phones in silence. Eventually Shirley looked up. "So has anyone heard from Jeffrey today?" she asked timidly.

They exchanged glances, and shook their heads. He'd been under radio silence since Thursday of the week before. Annie hadn't said anything or answered questions, but she hadn't needed to — absent Jeff and tearful Annie told its own story.

"I was going to trying texting him again," Britta said lamely.

Shirley looked at her expectantly. "And?" she prompted.

"Nothing," Britta replied. "I mean, I'm still going to text him. Later, probably."

"Did you try calling him?" Abed asked Shirley. "Your generation calls people."

Shirley cleared her throat. "I'll call him tonight," she decided. "To ask how his mother is," she added, in case this was a clarification anyone needed.

"His mother is home from the hospital but she's weak. He's worried about her, but not enough to go visit her. Which is typical of him," Annie announced as she swept into the room and sat down. "You were talking about Jeff's mother, right?" she asked Shirley. "Something might have changed since last week, but that was the situation then."

"Is Jeff not here?" Pierce asked, as he followed Annie into the room. He sat down, clearly disappointed by Jeff's absence.

"I haven't seen him," Annie said primly. "I'm sure he's fine."

Troy cleared his throat. "So, uh, if everyone's here…"

"Everyone who's going to show up, apparently," muttered Annie, as she rooted through her backpack. "Which is just as well, anyway, because…" She stopped suddenly, as though she'd only just then realized she'd been speaking out loud. "Pardon."

"If everyone's here," Troy repeated, "I wanted to, uh… Shirley, can you…?"

"Oh," said Shirley. She glanced around nervously. "You want to go ahead and…?"

"This maybe isn't the best time," admitted Troy, "but, you know, maybe a little… to, you know, brighten the mood…"

Annie hauled a textbook from her backpack and slammed it onto the table in front of her with a loud thud. "What is it?" she barked. "What's too nerve-wracking for Annie's delicate condition and you can't use complete sentences? I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she added quickly, as the rest of the group stared at her. "I was doing really well, all weekend, this morning, even."

"It's true," Abed confirmed for the group. "She didn't break down sobbing once."

Annie nodded.

"Unless you count crying alone in your room at night. She did do that," Abed admitted. "Or maybe," he said, the thought just then occurring to him, "she was watching a video of someone crying, on her phone, and we could all hear the audio through her door and leaped to conclusions."

Annie dug some tissues out of her bag and wiped away her tears. "I'm sorry to…"

"It's okay, sweetie," Shirley assured her, stroking her shoulder.

"I know it's okay. It's fine, and I don't want to talk about it." Annie took a few deep breaths and began daubing at her face. "I'm fine. Do your… whatever you were going to do. Please."

"Um, okay." Troy cleared his throat again. "So Britta, I was talking to Shirley and I did the math and, uh…"

Shirley lifted a cardboard cake box from the floor next to her seat onto the table. "Ta da!" she sang, flipping the lid open.

Within was a small white cake with lettering in blue frosting: CONGRATS TROY & BRITTA ON YOUR SIX-WEEK ANNIVERSARY! with pink frosting hearts scattered around.

"Apparently the six-week anniversary is the first big one?" Troy said, his voice rising at the end. "Six weeks and then annually, I guess? Anyway, I got you a cake."

Silence settled over the group.

Annie emitted a faint squeaking sound as she held a tissue up to her eyes and nose.

"Oh," said Britta. "Wow. Wow, that is… has it been six whole weeks?" She tried to count days on her fingers. "I mean, there's that weekend I was in Pueblo, does that week really count?" Her face lit up. "Because then it'd only be five…"

"Uh, yeah dummy," Troy assured her. "Unless you were sleeping with some other guy in Pueblo."

Britta shook her head vigorously. "Oh, no! No, I wouldn't… there wasn't anyone in Pueblo. Or anywhere else," she added quickly. "I mean, we have been together this whole time I guess, yeah. Six weeks. Six whole weeks. Wow."

Abed, with either feigned or genuine obliviousness, had slid the cake closer to himself and began cutting it with a ruler. "Who wants a piece? Cake? Cake? Cake?" He began offering pieces to the others. Pierce took two.

"The cake looks great," Britta said, "and thank you so much, but you know, I… I need to go." She stood up. "I have to wash my locker," she announced, and dashed from the room.

Pierce, his mouth full of cake, snorted in surprise. "It's locker washing day again already?!"

* * *

Jeff was waiting for her outside HOSPADMIN 415, "Ennet House: A Rehabilitation Clinic Case Study." Annie shuddered involuntarily when she saw him. Suddenly it was as though they were still here, in the hallway outside the Enchantment Under the Sea dance with the power out, and he'd propositioned her seconds ago, instead of days. Conflicting urges bubbled up inside her: punch him in his stupid handsome face. Kiss him on his stupid handsome face. Run away from his stupid handsome face. Instead she clutched her backpack. If she swung it hard enough she could get some momentum going and maybe smash his stupid handsome face. Then he'd fall down and she could climb on top of him and…

"Annie," he said. He had that I'm-being-totally-honest-now, unguarded expression that she'd finally come to realize was just as calculated as all his other expressions.

"You're supposed to be in class right now," she told him. She should know; she laid out his course schedule for him.

"I'm skipping it, this is more important. Can we talk? Please?"

"I really don't want to talk to you right now," she told him shortly.

"We've got to have an honest discussion," Jeff insisted. "It's the only way!"

She veered away from him in a sharp right turn. "Well, you can say whatever you want. I can't stop you, obviously."

"Great," he said, missing or ignoring her request he not. "I know I really flubbed it last week," he continued doggedly on, pushing though the crowd of students to stay at her side. "But I've had a lot of time to think about it, and what I want to say is, I think, what you want to hear."

She shot him an acid look, and quickened her pace.

Jeff grunted in frustration. "I mean, no, that's not what I mean, not like that. This was easier in my head. Of course in my head you were standing still… what I mean is, you and I are a lot more on the same page than you think we are, and… and now you're going into the ladies' room," he observed as she ducked into the women's restroom.

Inside, Annie looked at herself in the mirror and tried to gauge whether she looked exhausted, like she hadn't been sleeping because of him, or just like she was falling apart at the seams for possibly unrelated reasons. As she looked at herself, she realized she saw her mother. It made sense; she was exhausted and angry. All she needed was a daughter she could call a disappointment.

"Please," Jeff said as he appeared in the mirror beside her.

Annie turned and shrieked. He was, in fact, there; she wasn't hallucinating. For a quarter of a second she was speechless, then reason returned. "Jeff, this is the women's restroom!" she hissed. "Get out of here! Someone could come in at any second!"

"Not until we've talked," Jeff said. "We've got to talk about this."

"There's a man in the women's restroom!" she shouted. "There's a man in the women's restroom!"

Jeff cringed. "Annie, please," he said again, sounding desperate.

It was just a ploy, she reminded herself. With Jeff, it was always just a ploy. "Man in the women's restroom!" Annie shrieked again.

Jeff held his hands up in surrender and stepped backwards out through the doorway, back into the hall. Annie stayed in the restroom for several minutes, until she risked missing her next class, "Bankruptcy Among ER Patients." She emerged only hesitantly, half-expecting Jeff to have marshaled some kind of posse to force her to sit and listen until she accepted whatever cockamamie story he'd come up with to defend himself.

Instead the hallway was empty. Annie was left alone and, though she hated to admit it to even herself, disappointed.


	15. Ichthyic Cycling Act 2

ICHTHYIC CYCLING

ACT 2

* * *

After classes Jeff sat in his car, practicing his new hobby of writing text messages and then erasing them unsent. When his phone buzzed with an incoming call, he almost dropped it in surprise. PIERCE HAWTHORNE (CELL), the display read, but Jeff answered it anyway. Avoiding their mutual friends hadn't helped him any.

"Hello?" he said hopefully. There was, after all, a minuscule chance Annie had borrowed Pierce's phone.

"Jeffrey! It's Pierce."

Jeff grimaced. Then, realizing Pierce couldn't see him, he made an exaggerated face of disgust. "Hey."

"I know, I know, you're probably asking yourself how I, your best friend, could side with Annie over you."

"It's not really about sides, Pierce —"

"The thing is Jeffrey, it's not about sides," Pierce asserted over the phone. "But you're probably hurting for company, as I know you haven't seen or talked to Shirley or Aybed or Britta or Troy since last week."

"I'm not really up for company," Jeff began.

"Nonsense! Come out to the bar, I'm putting together a little poker game. Or maybe gin rummy, we haven't decided yet."

"I don't think Annie wants —"

Pierce interrupted him again. "Annie's not involved. Nor her roommates, nor Britta — who, you know, she's sleeping with one of them."

"So, what, you and Shirley…?"

"Shirley had to pick up her kids. Come on, Jeff, I'm trying to do a thing here, make it up to you about this morning."

* * *

The game ended up being Dungeons & Dragons. The books were a different edition than Jeff had used in the past, but mostly the rules were whatever Neil said they were.

"I hear you're going through a rough time, man," Neil said as he sat down at the long table in the back of the bar. The big man sighed sympathetically. "That's rough, man."

"It is rough, yeah," Jeff agreed.

"Well, you know Jeffrey, we're your friends and we're here for you," the dean, sitting next to Jeff, told him. He patted Jeff reassuringly on the knee, then just left his hand there.

"Switch seats with me?" Jeff asked Duncan, on his other side.

Duncan cleared his throat. "I hardly see you for a year and that's the first thing you say to me? If Pierce hadn't told us all about your heartbreak and depression, I'd feel insulted. Actually, strike that, I feel insulted anyway."

"What did Pierce tell you about my heartbreak and depression?" Jeff asked, alarmed.

"Everything I know," answered Pierce. "First, that Annie, who is angry and also all heartbroken, is involved in some way."

There was a long pause, as everyone waited for Pierce to deliver a second fact. Eventually it became clear he didn't have anything else to offer.

"Of course if I'd known what the game was going to be I would have worn my enchanter outfit," the dean announced to no one in particular. "It's actually my sister's enchantress outfit, but I think sequins are a unisex signifier of magic and wonder. Like David Bowie. Oh, remember _Labyrinth?_ "

"No more 80s movies," Jeff told him firmly. "That was last week."

"Yes, the _Back to the_ Future debacle. I do hope the entire decade's worth of cinema isn't ruined for you forever." Duncan shifted in his seat. "Your _Ghostbusters_ , your _Say Anything_ , your _When Harry Met Sally_ , or as it was called on my side of the pond _Sandwich Orgasms_ …" Noticing Neil's expression (a 50/50 blend of confusion and disgust) Duncan explained. "Part of Thatcher's Cinematic Literalism Initiative."

"Okay, well, on that note, let's get started," Neil said. He passed out a set of character sheets. "There's a paladin, a wizard, a cleric, and a sorcerer; pick one and write a name in."

"A clerk?" Duncan blinked in confusion. "Does this adventure require a lot of record-keeping?"

The dean studied the sheet in front of him. "I note the space for gender identity is blank," he said. "Can I put in whatever I want there?"

"Cleric, not clerk. It's a kind of priest. Give it here," Jeff said to Duncan. "My cleric is, uh… Brother Ffej." He glanced at the dean. "Brother Ffej has taken a strict vow of chastity."

* * *

"Britta!"

After she'd dodged him all afternoon Troy caught her in the parking lot at the end of the day. "There you are, Britta."

She smiled wanly. "Here I am," she agreed. Her throat felt uncomfortably dry.

"You, um, you kind of left the study room in a hurry," Troy said. His brow was furrowed in concentration, he was choosing his words so carefully. "I didn't mean anything bad by the cake. Shirley talked me into it, but if it was a bad call it was my bad call, I'm not blaming her…"

"The cake was fine," Britta assured him.

"Yeah?" His eyes narrowed. "'Cause I was looking it up, and the internet didn't make me think six-week cakes were a thing. I mean, while I was buying it, I was like, Troy, why are you doing this, this is stupid…"

"No, no, the cake was fine," Without thinking about it, Britta began stroking Troy's bicep. "The cake was sweet. I assume it was sweet, I didn't have any."

Troy nodded. "It was pretty sweet. I saved you a slice."

"That sounds like you," Britta said sadly. "I'm really sorry."

"It's okay, Ricky Jay," he said. "No harm done."

"No, I mean, I'm really sorry for this." Britta stopped touching his arm, and took a step backwards from him.

"I don't understand you, Britta," he said slowly.

"We have to break up. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." There were tears in Britta's eyes.

"What? Why? What?" Troy took a step towards her, but she held her hands up to keep him at bay. This was for the best, she reminded herself.

"I'm just, I'm not any good for you, and we knew going into this that it would, and I am so, and you're really, and I'm just, you're a really sweet guy."

"I _really_ don't understand you, Britta…" Troy was shaking his head slightly, like he couldn't believe what she was saying.

"So I'm calling it. Relationship over, before anybody gets hurt more."

"I don't… is this… this isn't about Abed," Troy said. "I figured if we were going to have a big fight, it would be about Abed, or maybe about pizza toppings, or which TV network has the best comedies…"

"Fox," Britta and Troy said in unison.

"But this," Troy continued, "I don't…"

"We're not fighting. Don't you see? It has to be like this. I'm so sorry." If Britta stood there any longer she was going to collapse into Troy's arms… so instead she turned and ran.

He called after her, but she kept running.

* * *

Jeff, Pierce, Duncan and the dean — or Brother Ffej the cleric, Pierce the Magnificent the wizard, This Space Left Intentionally Blank the paladin, and Selina the sorceress — adventured for a solid three hours before reaching the end of the night's work.

"The stone-faced vizier squints uneasily as he hands out…" Neil paused to roll a few dice. "Seventy-four gold sovereigns for each of you. 'Enjoy this,'" he continued, twisting his voice into a wicked squeak, "'your rightful reward for spoiling my plans! I mean, for saving the kingdom. Don't spend it all in one place!' he cackles. Jeff, your Sense Motive skill is highest in the group. You have a real sense the vizier might not be completely on the up and up."

"Enh." Jeff shrugged. "I mean, it's pretty obvious he's the one behind the theft of the queen's necklace, but we're not going to be able to make that stick without something better than 'he must be evil: he's got a goatee and his job title is vizier and Neil uses this really villainy-sounding voice for him.' I say we take the money and run."

Duncan was checking something in one of the books. "According to this, harlots cost a silver piece for an hour."

"Is harlot a woman-only profession in this fantasy culture?" the dean asked. No one answered him.

"Does it say that really?" Pierce asked, interested.

Duncan flipped the book closed. "Basically it does; you do have to read between the lines a bit. There's ten silver pieces in a gold piece, so I want to hire seven hundred and forty harlots," he announced.

"I want in on that!" Pierce said quickly. "We can set up a wrestling tournament."

Neil coughed. "And we're done for the night."

"Is there a bulk discount?" Pierce suggested. "Can we talk them up to an even eight hundred?"

Neil glared at him. "I said we're done for the night, man."

While Neil gathered up the dice and papers and other gaming materials, Pierce and Duncan settled up their bar tabs, and the dean excused himself for the restroom, Jeff sat at the table and stared into space.

"How you doing, Jeff?" Neil asked him.

Jeff didn't answer immediately. "I don't know," he admitted.

Neil nodded. "Pierce's story, it sounded like you were… jeez, man, I don't even know." He chewed his lip. "I know you and Annie have been doing a thing for a while…"

Jeff cocked an eyebrow. "Doing a thing?"

"I know, man, I don't know. I'm being vague on purpose. Anyway, I know you're not a bad guy. She knows it too, right? She's mad now, because… actually I don't know that part." Neil considered. "You didn't cheat on her or anything, did you man?"

Jeff shook his head no. "I just said the worst thing possible at the exact wrong time." He stared ruminatively into the middle distance. "Well, not the worst thing; I could have gone on a lengthy anti-Semitic diatribe, or something. But it was pretty bad."

"People say stupid things all the time, man. Like, I once told Vicki she and her mother had the same sense of humor? Not a smart move. But she forgave me, once I'd apologized and she'd cooled off."

Jeff grunted.

"So say you're sorry and give her a little time, man," Neil said. "Or maybe not, I don't know, I'm not a guy who knows anything about it. But I do know you're not a bad guy, and if she knows you then she knows it, too."

* * *

Abed was sitting in the living room waiting for her when Annie got home. "Before you say anything, I want to remind you that we share a special connection," he told her.

"Abed?" Annie asked, uncertainly. "Let me put my stuff down before you… whatever."

"We've gotten drunk together," Abed continued. "We've told each other secrets no one else knows, as far as I know. We put the study group together in the first place."

"Abed," Annie said flatly.

The door to the bathroom opened, and Jeff came out. Annie couldn't force herself to feel surprise. "Hi," he said.

"I'm really disappointed, Abed," Annie said. "Get out," she told Jeff. He didn't move.

"Me, or…?" Abed asked.

"It's our apartment," she told Abed. "Only one of us isn't welcome here." She glared at Jeff.

"Actually I invited him in. Well, he asked for permission and I gave it," Abed explained.

Annie realized she needed to sit down before she started shaking, so she collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table. "Please leave," she said again to Jeff. She pointed at the door.

"But I just got here," Troy said from the doorway. He bore a shell-shocked expression.

"Hi Troy," Abed called.

"Abed, a word?" Troy gestured towards his room.

Abed rose. "Actually, let's go for a walk," he suggested to Troy.

"Okay," Troy said dully.

Once they left, Jeff let out a nervous chuckle. "Annie," he said.

"I don't want to hear it, Jeff! How many different ways can I say that?" she almost shouted.

Jeff looked pained. "If you want me to go, I'll go," he began, "but…"

"I want you to go!" Annie interrupted.

He had the temerity to wince at that. Without saying anything he trudged past her, to the door. With his hand on the knob, though, he stopped and turned back towards her. "Annie. Milady," he said, as though he were firing the last arrow in his quiver. "We've known each other for a long time, can't you please…"

"We _have_ known each other for a long time, Jeff," Annie said. "It seems like a long time to me, anyway. But in all that time, have you ever just… You don't respect me."

"That's not true!" Jeff exploded, his calm facade finally cracking. "Dammit, can't you just listen? You're the smartest, best person I know! You're so important to me, and I've been lying to myself about it, and to you! I just want to be honest with you! I just want to finally be honest!" He leaned against the apartment door, face red and out of breath.

Annie let out a slow, ragged sigh. When she spoke, she struggled to keep her tone even. "This, this right here, this is you not respecting me. Actively, right now, here. While you're trying to, I guess apologize, for trying to trick me into sleeping with you…" She broke off when she saw his reaction to 'trick;' he flinched as though he's been slapped.

"There was no trick!" Jeff insisted. "Do you think if all I wanted was to sleep with you that I'd do… that any of this would have happened? I'm trying to tell you, I…"

Annie let out an incoherent screech that silenced him. "You know what? I don't even care any more! Because this, your refusal to accept my answer? Your insistence that you know better than me? I'm telling you until I'm blue in the face and you just don't listen! You come uninvited into my _house_ , Jeff… this is not how you treat someone you love."

Both of them fell silent for a few seconds, staring at each other. Jeff looked as pale as Annie felt.

"This is how you treat a child," she said quietly.

There was another long pause. Jeff leaned against the door. Annie sat at the kitchen table.

Jeff let out a ragged breath. "You're right," he said. "You're right. I'm sorry."

She managed not to start sobbing until the door closed behind him.


	16. Ichthyic Cycling Act 3

ICHTHYIC CYCLING

ACT 3

* * *

Shirley's Sandwiches opened, technically, at seven o'clock every morning Monday through Friday. Usually Shirley was there earlier, baking bread and cookies for the day, which meant she kept hours that put her in bed well before any of her friends. As such, she didn't hear about Troy and Britta's break-up until the next morning. The Greendale cafeteria at seven in the morning hadn't become a livelier place since classes had begun; as the sandwich counter opened, it was largely empty, with just a few women sitting in a booth nearby. Shirley waved Britta over as soon as she saw her.

"I saw your text message this morning. You poor, poor dear," Shirley cooed, offering Britta a breakfast sandwich made of butter and salt. "Take this and sit down and tell us all about it." She gestured to a seat in the cafeteria booth across from her.

Annie, next to Shirley in the booth, murmured in agreement. The more she heard about other people's personal problems the more reasonable her own would seem, surely.

"Or don't," Vicki, sitting across from Annie, suggested. "You don't have to."

Britta slid into the seat next to Vicki. "I feel terrible about it," she said.

"You know, I'm kind of blocked in here," Vicki said. She wriggled in her seat, as though considering whether she could slide out under Britta, or perhaps over the back of the booth.

"What happened?" Annie asked her. "Did he spin some web of lies for you? Lead you down a garden path of dishonesty and then try to deceive his way out of it?"

"Troy isn't really the web of lies type," observed Shirley. "Was this about the cake? Did the two of you have a fight about the cake? I told him not to get that cake."

Britta frowned. "He said the cake was your idea."

"My idea, yes, well." Shirley grimaced; she didn't like seeing herself as an interfering busybody. "My idea was that he _not_ get it," she explained.

"I don't know what you guys are talking about," complained Vicki. "You don't have to explain it or anything, if you could just get up for a…"

"Vicki!" Annie whispered urgently across the table. "Britta needs our support!"

"I just wanted coffee," Vicki whined to herself.

"It wasn't the cake," Britta assured Shirley. "Mostly it wasn't the cake." She drummed her fingers against the tabletop. "It was just, it was just so much, you know? Everybody's expectations, and I don't want to hurt him, you know I don't!"

"Of course, of course, you poor poor dear," Shirley said gently.

"Expectations suck," Annie declared grimly. "You think things are happening, and they're going one way, and then suddenly you see that he expects you to just roll over and…" She shook her head.

"I don't understand," Vicki said. "If I have to sit here and listen to this, I have to understand. You," she pointed at Annie, "are a whole other pile of thing, think you're so hot because you've got Jeff Winger shuffling around like a zombie over you, tin man finally found his heart."

Annie gasped indignantly.

"But you," Vicky continued, shifting her attention to Britta, "I don't get it at all. You broke up with your boyfriend because he got you the wrong kind of cake? My boyfriend never gets me cake!"

"It wasn't the cake!" cried Britta. "We were just moving too fast! I had to put the brakes on it."

Shirley bit her tongue to keep from saying something like _see I told you jumping into bed like a couple of sex weasels was a bad idea_.

"Putting the brakes on it isn't dumping the guy. God, you're the worst," Vicki wriggled in her seat again. When Britta failed to take the hint and get up so she could leave, she continued. "'Hey, Troy, I'm freaking out about how fast this is going,' is that too hard for you to say? 'I'm worried we're going to end up one of those couples you see sitting silently across from one another in restaurants,' you could say that, or 'I really resent how you continue to play D&D with Pierce Hawthorne, my nemesis,' or 'I also resent it when you defend Pierce; he totally deserved getting stabbed in the face,' or 'what's more important, me or your radio show getting a promo recorded by Natalie is Freezing?'"

"Some of those may not be generalizable," Annie said.

"Can it, princess," Vicki snapped.

"I agree with you though!" Annie retorted. She turned to Britta. "No, well, okay, Vicki kind of has a point."

"Well, duh," said Vicki.

"I mean, there's a middle ground between just dumping Troy and then ducking his calls and ignoring his texts and leaving him to cry all night in the living room… not that I would betray roommate-confidentiality by saying that's what he did…"

Vicki rolled her eyes and sighed theatrically.

Annie kicked at her under the table. "But there's that, and then there's just rolling over and letting him do whatever he wants, and it doesn't have to be one or the other. You can have a conversation like grown-ups. You should talk to him. I'm sure you can work something out."

"Oh, you're one to talk," Britta retorted. She suddenly felt ganged-up-on, with Annie, Shirley, and even Vicki taking Troy's side. "Like you've given Jeff any kind of a chance to apologize for I don't even know what!"

"He's been stumbling around like a zombie, I said," Vicky agreed.

Annie reddened. "That is a completely different situation! He ambushed me in my house! And you know how he just says words to get what he wants, he doesn't mean anything. If I wanted to be lied at to my face by an obnoxiously smug…" She took a deep breath. "I'd watch cable news."

"A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle!" Britta cried, pounding the tabletop in front of her with her fist.

"You're both nuts," Vicki declared. "'I think Vicki makes a good point,'" she added, _sotto_ _voce_. "'Yeah, Vicki's smart, we should listen to her.'"

* * *

Elsewhere, later. Jeff, Pierce, Abed, and Troy all looked uncomfortable, as none of them felt entirely at home in a bowling alley.

"I'm only going to ask this once, and then I promise I'll drop it," Jeff said, "but why are we here?"

"Troy was dumped yesterday," Pierce reminded him. "In the most humiliating way possible, really. Britta just got up and left. Troy chased after her, and she was all, 'welcome to dumpsville, population you,' and…"

"Thank you, Pierce," Troy said. "Thanks for reminding me about that… I'm being sarcastic."

Pierce shrugged. "I say what we're all thinking. That's who I am. You, Jeff, are a heartbroken shell of a man, but…"

"Hey!"

"It's true, you are," Abed agreed. "The clothes you're wearing were clean when you put them on yesterday morning, your hair is actually unkempt instead of styled to look unkempt and since last Thursday you've clocked more than four seasons of _the West Wing_ on Netflix."

"Note to self: change my Netflix password again," Jeff muttered.

"Those are not short seasons, Jeff. They're twenty-two episodes each. That's a cry for help. Annie's not doing much better."

Jeff perked up. "What about Annie?"

"I helped Jeff already," Pierce declared. "We played Dungeons & Dragons. This is for Troy."

"You played Dungeons & Dragons without me?" Abed peered at Jeff. "Was Neil running? Which edition did he use? It was Fourth, wasn't it?" He shook his head slightly. "You sicken me. I shouldn't have let you into the apartment last night."

"Okay!" Jeff clapped his hands together. "Let's bowl!"

* * *

The final score was Abed/Troy 104, Pierce/Jeff 113. For a five-frame half-game, they weren't terrible scores. However, the men had played a full ten frames.

"Bowling is not our game," Troy declared.

"Speak for yourself," crowed Pierce. "We beat the pants off of you!"

"Pierce, you scored sixty points," Jeff pointed out.

"More than anyone else, yes, thank you." Pierce glowed with accomplishment. "Another game, gentlemen?"

"I thought we were going to go around the group and each offer Troy advice," said Abed. "I have some notes prepared."

"That's okay, buddy," Troy assured him.

"No, no, that's a good idea," said Pierce. "I'll go first. Troy, Britta is crazy." He paused, as though for laughter. "But all women are crazy, and I know you like her. You should try to talk to her, because maybe you can talk her into being less crazy. She doesn't know what she wants."

"That is terrible advice," Jeff snapped before anyone else could respond. Looking around, he added, "if she doesn't want to see you, you have to respect it. Otherwise you're only making it worse."

"Hmm, well, maybe. I'm sure that's true for some situations," Pierce said, "but we're talking about Britta, here. Britta!" He paused again. "She doesn't know what she wants. That's her whole deal. She was banging you for months, after all." Pierce waggled a finger at Jeff.

Jeff and Troy both winced.

"I really just want to go home and sleep," said Troy.

"It's like two in the afternoon," Pierce pointed out. Troy shrugged.

"Can we talk about something else?" Jeff asked. "Anything? Anything at all?"

"How's your mother?" Pierce asked him.

Jeff cleared his throat. "Seriously, anything else."

"This is bad story construction," Abed announced. Pierce, Troy, and Jeff all turned to him. "I'm sorry, but it is. Jeff said something awful that upset Annie; we don't know what it was. Then he tried to apologize and that somehow made it worse. Lesson is, don't be pushy like that. Meanwhile Troy said nothing that upset Britta but she got upset anyway. He hasn't tried to apologize because he doesn't have anything to say he's sorry about, but if he doesn't get active about it and talk to her then the relationship is over. Lesson is, the squeaky wheel gets the grease. We go through life trying to learn things from television shows and our own experiences, and apply them to the situations we're in, and here we have diametrically opposed morals to simultaneous stories. It's bad plotting."

"I thought you'd be happy about all this," Pierce said.

"I want Troy to be happy. I want Jeff to be happy. I want Annie and Britta to be happy. I want to be happy. This isn't what happy looks like. This is four guys who hate bowling sitting in a bowling alley in the middle of the day, being unhappy."

There was a moment of silence while everyone mulled this over.

"Plus I think you broke the group," Abed said. "That wasn't supposed to happen until endgame, and if this is endgame, then endgame sucks."

* * *

Hours later Troy and Abed were in the living room of their apartment, watching a movie. Or to be more accurate, Abed was watching it and Troy was staring at the screen with unfocused eyes.

As the closing credits rolled, Abed leaned forward. "And that was _Ancient Astro-Nut 2_ ," he declared. Next to him, Troy startled from his reverie. " _Ancient Astro-Nut 3_ was made without Khosrow Ali Vaziri, though, for budget reasons," Abed continued. "So instead I want to skip to _Ancient Astro-Nut 4_ , the only direct-to-VHS installment in the series. It's often called Vaziri's best work, on the web forum I moderate."

"That was kind of weirdly expositional," observed Troy. "But yeah, sure. Whatever."

Abed nodded and rose to change the discs out. As he did so, there was a knock at the front door.

"Did I order pizza and forget about it?" Troy asked.

Abed shook his head without turning around.

"Huh." Troy stood and crossed to the door. He peered through the peephole, then quickly swung the door open.

Britta stood in the hall, framed by the doorway. In her hands she held a cake box. "Cake delivery?" she offered, with a weak and sheepish smile.

"Britta… uh, come in, come in!" Troy said to her, stepping aside and beckoning her.

Britta ducked her head down as she hurried into the apartment. She dropped the cake box on the kitchen table, then sat down in front of it.

"I'm just…" She rested her head in her hands. "God. I'm the worst."

"No, no, no," Troy said. He bent over her and began rubbing the back of her neck. "You're the best. I mean…"

"I don't want to be broken up," she said through her hands. "Why did you let me do that?"

Troy turned to Abed and cleared his throat. "Uh, buddy…"

"It's cool," Abed assured him. "I'll leave you to it." They did their special best-friends handshake, and then Abed was out the door.

Britta looked mortified that Abed had been in the room. "Is Annie here?" she whispered, looking around.

Troy shook his head. "She's gone to bed." He sat down in a kitchen chair next to her.

"I got you a cake." Britta opened the lid of the box. Within was a small white cake, matching the one from the day before. In blue frosting was written _APOLOGY CAKE, IS THAT A THING? I DON'T KNOW. I REALLY SCREWED UP. HE GOT ME A CAKE SO I'M GETTING HIM A CAKE_.

She cleared her throat. "I don't think the bakery understood my instructions about the lettering."

Troy chuckled, and put his arm around her. "It's the best cake," he said. "There's all this extra blue frosting!"

* * *

On the other side of the thin wall separating her room from Troy's, Annie rolled over in bed and flipped on her box fan. The white-noise drone of the fan drowned out the faint sounds of Troy and Britta's reconciliation. At least, it did once she turned the fan up from LOW to MED and then HI.

She lay on her back, alone in the dark, for several minutes, listening to the fan-noise and, under it, the indistinct sounds she could still just barely hear coming through the wall. They might have been watching a movie or something, for all Annie could tell.

Finally she couldn't take it any more. Annie groped for her phone, in the dark, and texted Jeff.

 **ANNIE (CELL) to JEFF (CELL):**

 **Hey**

 **Are you up?**

 **[Question mark emoji]**

The answer came back almost immediately.

 **JEFF (CELL) to ANNIE (CELL):**

 **Yes. What's up?**

Annie looked at the words on her screen for a while. _I'm still mad at you [angry face emoji]_ she typed, then deleted it. Then she typed _I miss you [crying emoji]_ and deleted it, too.

 **ANNIE (CELL) to JEFF (CELL):**

 **I hate this [frowny face emoji]**

Again, the response was almost instantaneous.

 **JEFF (CELL) to ANNIE (CELL):**

 **Me too.**

Annie sighed. _I know you're not always insincere_ , she typed, then deleted it.

 _I know it isn't always just a ploy_.

 _I know what you wanted to say._

 _I was lying when I said I didn't care._

She put the phone down, then picked it up again.

 **ANNIE (CELL) to JEFF (CELL):**

 **Goodnight**

She flipped her phone away before she saw whatever his response was — if she saw it, she was likely to get drawn in and spend half the night texting him.

* * *

Across town Jeff lay in his own bed and stared at his phone.

 **JEFF (CELL) to ANNIE (CELL):**

 **Goodnight**

When she didn't respond immediately, he sighed and set the phone down on the mattress next to him. He was about to turn his lights off and try to sleep, when he heard a knock at his bedroom door.

"Yeah?"

Abed opened his door just enough to stick his head through.

"Is there a problem with the couch?" Jeff asked him. When Abed had appeared at his door, not more than twenty minutes ago, and declared he'd be sleeping on Jeff's couch, Jeff hadn't asked questions. He and Abed shared a special bond, after all.

"The couch is fine. I was looking at your kitchen and you don't have any ramen." He stared accusingly at Jeff for a beat. "I'm going to go buy some. Do you want anything from the twenty-four hour market?"

Jeff shook his head. "I'm good. Thanks, though."

Abed hesitated before closing the door. "I'm glad you're good."


	17. Theoretics of Basket-Weaving Act 1

THEORETICS OF BASKET-WEAVING

ACT ONE

(Some notes follow the end of Act 3.)

* * *

The fact of the matter was, Annie had barely seen Jeff for almost two weeks. Their ill-fated day-long date (call it what it was) twelve days before had culminated in heartache and disappointment. Jeff's subsequent attempts to force her to listen to him apologize and defend himself (at least Annie assumed that was what Jeff was trying to do) had culminated in their screaming match in her apartment nearly a week ago. Since then he'd kept a low profile, and so had she.

With the study group no longer meeting regularly, he wasn't that hard to avoid. She saw him once at Shirley's sandwich counter, around nine. She'd spun around and left before he saw her, of course. Since then she'd avoided the cafeteria before noon, and there'd been no more troubles; Jeff was taking his lunches somewhere else, it seemed.

Annie and Jeff's falling out wasn't the sole or even chief reason the study group had stopped meeting: Chang was now teaching Mandatory Historiography entirely via the medium of notices taped to the classroom door. That didn't stop Annie from coming to class anyway; it wasn't as though anyone would be shocked if Chang suddenly swerved in his habits. As the class was at six in the morning, she was one of the only people on campus that early, and so she always saw the notices before anyone else.

"Attention Children! You don't want to learn and I don't want to teach," the latest one read. "But you need a good grade and my plans have fallen through. I need a date to a Halloween party, and also an invitation to a Halloween party. This is a group assignment for the entire class, due by the end of the day tomorrow. Either everyone gets an A or everyone fails. I don't know why I'm pretending I expect anyone besides Annie Edison to work on this. The rest of you should thank her! Or blame her if I'm not satisfied and fail you all. PS No Winger I do not want to date your girlfriend! Get your head out of the gutter! I'm just asking her to pimp out one of her friends. PPS Not Britta or Shirley either! PPPS Actually Shirley would be fine. PPPPS Required extra-credit assignment: one-page essay on breaking up Shirley's marriage."

Annie reddened when she saw the note and its reference to her romantic life in particular. She tugged it down and folded it tightly before she stuffed the notice into her bag. Hopefully no one else had seen it. Chang didn't exactly have his finger on the pulse of current events, she told herself; his information was weeks out of date and presumptuous anyway.

Within, the classroom was, of course, empty. Even Pierce had quit coming last week, when the notes started appearing. Annie didn't especially mind; she treated it as an early-morning study hall, a time to gather her thoughts and review her notes and obsess over stupid notices written by stupid historiography teachers who didn't even know what historiography was.

Jeff had never wanted to be her boyfriend, Annie reminded herself. He'd dragged his feet and denied being attracted to her long after it stopped being cute. Even at the end of what had seemed like a perfect day, he'd balked. Pressed against the wall, he'd been prepared to say anything, sure, but that was only because he hadn't wanted to lose her. Or, no, that was too optimistic and/or generous a way of looking at it. If he hadn't wanted to lose her he'd have taken more positive steps sooner. Probably.

She checked her phone, reviewing the most recent texts.

 **…**

 **…**

 **ANNIE to JEFF, 2258:**

 **Seriously I am going to sleep now I have to get up at quarter past five, goodnight! [Snoring emoji]**

 **=TUESDAY 30 OCTOBER=**

 **JEFF to ANNIE, 0516:**

 **Good morning [sunrise emoji]**

 **ANNIE to JEFF, 0533:**

 **[Sunrise emoji]**

 **What are you doing up?**

 **Did you set up a timer to automatically text me first thing in the morning so that I'd feel obligated to reply to you?**

 **JEFF to ANNIE, 0533:**

 **Would that have worked? Dang!**

 **I set an alarm, I was going to text you and then go back to sleep**

 **JEFF to ANNIE, 0536:**

 **But you took too long to respond**

 **So now I'm up**

She smiled despite herself. It was true that she and Jeff hadn't been in the same room for more than a few seconds since the 'Enchantment Under the Sea' dance the Thursday before last, but they'd been texting back and forth at a steadily increasing rate. At first it had just been a couple of texts during the day and then a couple more at night, and then there were a few more the next day, and a few more the day after that. Yesterday had been one long conversation. And it felt so normal, so infuriatingly normal, to be texting with Jeff like this. Just light banter, the sort of pleasantries and small talk they'd exchanged hundreds of times. It was easier to handle him at a remote distance. Phone Annie and Phone Jeff were the best of buds, totally ignoring the elephant in the relationship.

She owed him a reply.

 **ANNIE to JEFF, 0603:**

 **Use the time well!**

 **Seize the day! [Banner emoji] [cake emoji]**

Annie set her phone down and turned to her notes for class, to review. It took her several minutes to clear her head sufficiently to get into the right mindspace for study, but she was nothing if not good at focusing. Minutes spun by, and then her phone buzzed.

 **JEFF to ANNIE, 0649:**

 **I'm getting coffee**

 **You want coffee?**

She frowned. He wasn't saying he was coming here, was he? She glanced at the door nervously. If he did, she wasn't sure how she'd respond. They'd been talking normally again through texts, but in person was a whole other deal.

Probably that wasn't what he meant.

 **ANNIE to JEFF, 0651:**

 **[Question mark emoji]**

She placed her phone on the center of her desk, on top of her notebook, and stared at it. When it buzzed with a new message, she leaped back, startled.

 **JEFF to ANNIE, 0653:**

 **Too late**

There was a knock at the classroom door a minute later. She spun around, and felt her stomach tighten as she saw him. Jeff stood in the open doorway, one hand holding two coffees from Shirley's in a cardboard tray, the other a fist hovering an inch from the doorframe.

For a second or an hour they stared at one another. Then Jeff cleared his throat, and they both looked away. Annie instinctively covered her face with her hands, which she lowered only slowly.

"Mind if I come in?" Jeff asked. "I brought you coffee. I know you didn't say you wanted any," he continued, "but I figured worst-case scenario I could give it to Pierce and pretend that was the plan all along." He glanced around the empty classroom.

So he hadn't tried to collude with Pierce about this latest plan to talk to her. That was something, at least. "Pierce isn't here. He stopped coming last week."

"Well, there hasn't really been class," Jeff observed, in the sort of tone you use when you're self-consciously critiquing your own small talk.

Seeing that Jeff was still standing in the doorway, she coughed nervously. "You can come in, if you want to."

He nodded, then entered, closing the door behind him. He paused a moment at the door. "I can sit down, too," he decided.

Annie watched as he cautiously approached the seat next to hers which, she remembered, was the one that had been his. He sat and silently offered her one of the cups of coffee.

"Thanks," she said, taking it.

"No problem," he replied.

He took a sip, and she took a sip. In the silence she could hear the second hand of the clock on the wall click, click, click.

"So —" she began, after the wait had become unbearable.

"We —" he began, at the same time. They both broke off, waiting for the other.

"I —" she tried again, when it seemed he wasn't going to speak first after all.

"You —" he said, at the same time.

Jeff smiled sheepishly, and like that, the tension was broken.

"It's fine, it's fine. We are killing this," Annie assured him solemnly. Reflexively she reached out and put her hand on his. Realizing what she'd done, she gave it a quick squeeze, then pulled her hand back.

The best word for how he looked, she decided, smiling and bashful like that, was _adorable_.

"Okay," he said. "Okay. You go first."

"Maybe you should go first," she suggested, "since you showed up here and all."

"On the contrary," he replied. "It's been brought to my attention that on the one hand it's important to speak honestly, but on the other hand it's also important to listen, so, behold as I display both skills: I honestly would rather listen."

Annie sighed. "That makes sense, I _guess_. I was going to say, I suppose I owe you an apology. I'm sorry I didn't respond better when you were harassing me." She considered what she'd just said. "That's not a sentence I was planning on saying this morning."

"And I owe you an apology for, uh, lying to you and myself. But the important thing is, I forgive you?" Jeff offered.

She raised an eyebrow, knowing he wasn't serious. "That's what you came in here armed with? Forgiveness? That was your plan?"

Jeff shrugged. "Step one was talking you into letting me in, step two was getting rid of Pierce, step three was getting you to accept the coffee and thus establish a rapport, step four was getting a conversation going… I think I can be forgiven for not having a fifth step planned out in advance. I came up with the first four on the way over here; that's more work before seven than I usually do all day."

"Really," she said. "You just impulsively decided to come here and talk, after I threw you out of my apartment last Wednesday? After we've been avoiding each other for a week? The ladies and gentlemen of the jury are expected to buy that?"

Jeff waggled his phone at her. "Someone told me to 'seize the day flag birthday cake.' It seemed like good advice."

"Well then. I concede your wisdom in deciding to defer to my wisdom," Annie said carefully.

There was a pause that threatened to become another protracted silence. The second hand on the clock went click, click.

"So where does that put us?" Jeff asked softly.

"I don't know," Annie admitted. "This isn't familiar territory for me, you know."

"Me neither."

She chuckled. That seemed unlikely, given Jeff's history of romantic conquests. "I'm pretty sure you've been, I mean, unless you're going to suddenly reverse yourself, or accuse me of imagining things, or…" Annie trailed off, seeing the pained look in his eyes.

He reached across the aisle and took her hand in his. "I am one hundred percent committed to… whatever we're doing here. Okay," he said, "the first half of that sentence was a lot stronger than the second, I admit that."

"What are we doing here, Jeff?" Annie asked him. She drew her hand back.

"If I'm cautious, it's just because I don't want to screw this up."

"Is it that fragile? I mean, the past few weeks aside, we've been friends for awhile. Close friends, even." Annie looked down at her desktop, and the coffee slowly cooling. She tried to think of a less pathetic way to say _I know you didn't drag your feet this much when you were sleeping with Britta. Can't you show some enthusiasm for the idea of me? Of us?_

"This is different," Jeff said slowly. "This is different than it's been. This couldn't be… this isn't casual, or disposable. We could never be casual. I don't want to not have you in my life because I screwed this up, even less than because you moved to Virginia, or New York or LA, or Paris, or whatever you eventually choose. You move away, maybe you'll eventually come back, or I could visit, or… I don't know."

She tilted her head skeptically. "So… _because_ I'm so important to you, you just… crudely propositioned me?"

"Crudely and propositioned is a very ugly way of putting it," Jeff said defensively.

"I just wanted some… needed some reassurance. It was a big deal for me."

"It was, this _is_ , a big deal for me too!" Jeff declared. "If you look at the context the whole day, obviously I didn't want to ruin anything so instead of trying out something completely new and untested, I fell back on proven methods."

"Proven methods which in this case collapsed completely under the pressure," Annie pointed out. "Do you think it's my fault? Am I unreasonable in my expectations?"

"No! Maybe a little. I mean, I'm here now, aren't I? We're having this conversation, aren't we? We're talking about it, finally, which by the way is what I tried to do fully a week ago!" Jeff had begun to raise his voice.

"I was angry!" Annie cried, raising her own voice. "Justifiably I might add, as you have already conceded, when you apologized, finally, for what you said! Which you certainly weren't doing at the time!"

"Well if you had let me get a word out, maybe I would have! I seem to remember having to shout at you through Pierce and the door, and I _was_ apologizing!" Jeff retorted. He leaned across the aisle towards her and almost snarled. "And now I'm wondering if I'm going to have to keep apologizing for the rest of my life!"

Annie decided to table examining just what he meant by 'the rest of his life.' Instead she matched him, lean for lean and snarl for snarl. "Actions speak louder," she said, low and menacing. "Words are cheap."

Their faces were perhaps two inches apart.

"I'm here now," Jeff said firmly.

"So what are you going to do?" Annie asked him.

"What I should have done a long time ago," he growled.

"Just try it."

They looked one another hard in the eye, each refusing to back down.

* * *

Later they would each claim the other was the one who blinked first — 'blinked,' in this case, being a euphemism for 'violently kissed, and began tearing clothing off of, the other person.' Regardless of who was first, once they started, the other responded in kind.

END ACT ONE


	18. Theoretics of Basket-Weaving Act 2

THEORETICS OF BASKET-WEAVING

ACT TWO

* * *

The Historiography classroom looked like it had been the scene of a small riot. Chairs were overturned and papers strewn randomly about. Chalk and dry-erase markers rolled loose on the floor.

Jeff and Annie were in the corner furthest from the door. Jeff sat crosslegged, leaning against the wall, Annie snuggled in his lap. His arms were around her, her hands were on him. His shirt was untucked and his pants unbuttoned; her sweater was a crumpled ball abandoned on the floor. His belt had landed somewhere near the back of the class.

They pressed together in the corner without speaking, for some time, feeling one another's presence. Eventually Annie's phone began to chirp, and she returned, reluctantly, to reality. _That just happened_ , she thought. _That was a thing that happened._

Historiography had, notionally, ended. Annie had almost two hours until her next class, but more importantly, this classroom would be home to Theoretics of Basket-Weaving in about twenty minutes.

"My alarm," she explained to Jeff, in case he wondered about the sound. "It's quarter to eight; there's a class in here in…" How long? Not long. Someone who was running even a few minutes early could appear at any moment. "We're lucky nobody…" Annie had started to say _we're lucky nobody came in on us_ but then she took in the amount of damage they'd done to the room. It hadn't seemed that chaotic. "We're lucky nobody heard anything."

* * *

Jeff rose more languidly. He had a smile on his face as he watched Annie dash around the room, righting tipped-over furniture and gathering spilled chalk. If nothing else, at least he could assert with confidence that he and Annie were compatible on a physical level. He wasn't sure whether they'd settled anything, exactly, but right then he didn't much care.

He cleared his throat. Watching Annie, still rumpled from lovemaking, clean up the evidence of their activity: super hot. Jeff felt like a switch had been flipped in his brain, or… no. Jeff felt like for years he'd been tamping down on something, shoving it back and hiding it under the metaphorical carpeting. And now, after spending months working up the courage to examine the latch on the cupboard door behind which he'd directed the torrent, he'd ripped all the bonds asunder and was standing exultant in the full hot rush of the pent-up geyser that was… that was a metaphor that was getting away from him. He felt lightheaded, almost drunk; he'd been hyperventilating slightly.

Also, Annie was looking at him expectantly. "Jeff!"

"Hm?" Jeff smiled more warmly than he had in months. The urge seized him to take her up in his arms and hold her, kiss her, pet her, dance with her… he took a step towards her.

Annie looked up. "Help me clean up," she ordered.

* * *

They didn't have long until someone came in and wondered aloud why they were alone in a room where two people had obviously just now gone to town on one another.

Jeff grinned, like he knew what she was thinking. "Is that all you have to say?" he asked.

"Jeff!" There really wasn't time to waste.

He seemed to realize that she wasn't, in fact, going to grab him and climb him like a tree or haul him down to the ground where she could reach him properly. Not right then, anyway. He clucked his tongue in apparent disappointment. "Of course, milady."

Annie felt herself melt a bit — of all the terms of endearment anyone had ever used to address her, that one was her favorite. It was like a little private in-joke between them. "Thank you, milord," she said shyly.

He knelt to help her gather the papers that had unaccountably fallen from her desktop to the floor. "We kind of did a number on your notes," he observed. One sheet of paper in particular caught his eye — the notice from Chang.

Annie's heart sank as she recalled what Chang had written about them. Jeff would see it, and he'd panic, and get defensive, and then she'd try to deal with that, and then they'd have a fight, and then… whatever came after that wouldn't be pretty or fun.

"Did you see this?" he asked, as though she might not have noticed it.

For a moment she considered lying. If it would have staved off the inevitable, she would have in a heartbeat, she realized. Her certainty in that surprised her, a bit. However lying wouldn't solve anything. "Yes."

"You know," he began, and she braced herself, "this was typed on a word processor and then printed out. He could have just deleted Shirley's name."

Annie boggled. Was he toying with her? Had he skipped the first postscript for some weird Jeff-reason about maximum comprehension for minimum time spent actually reading? Was he just… fine with it? With Chang saying they were a couple? "That's true," she managed to say.

Jeff seemed to notice she was halfway through the process of driving herself mad. "Is something wrong?"

"No," she said quickly. Why pick a fight when you can just go around it, right? She told herself that there was no reason to draw attention to it. "No, no no. Well…" On the other hand, this was a fight they were going to have sooner or later. Best to get it out of the way now. If their nascent relationship wasn't going to survive it, the less time they wasted… "Chang calls you my boyfriend," Annie admitted. She pointed to the postscript. "Well, actually he calls me your girlfriend. I suppose that isn't exactly the same, but, you know." She shrugged, as if to say _but who cares what Chang thinks about anything?_

Jeff looked at the notice for long enough for Annie finish the process of going insane, rehabilitate herself, learn to feel normal emotions once more, and then go crazy all over again. "Well," he said slowly. "I admit this isn't how I wanted you to find out."

Her heart sank. So that was it. Jeff wasn't keen on disappointing her, particularly, but that by itself wasn't enough to make him want to stay with her. Not that she'd want him, if some sense of duty were the only thing keeping him around…

Then she saw the way he was smiling at her, and realized that no, he was making a joke. "So is that what we're doing, then?" she asked, hoping that her need for clarification and confirmation didn't sound overtly desperate.

* * *

"I guess it is." Jeff held up the notice. "I mean, I'm not about to argue with Chang. The man's dangerously psychotic, which would make him an expert on romance."

She looked at him quizzically.

"Because, heh, well." He suddenly felt self-conscious, and looked around to confirm that there weren't a bunch of gawkers peering in at them. "So, yeah. Yes. I want to be your boyfriend."

She nodded in the way that Jeff recognized as smugly self-satisfied. "Okay then. Your application has been logged and is under review." Annie sat on the instructor's desk at the front of the room and smoothed her rumpled skirt.

Jeff walked up to her, right into her personal space, not stopping until he loomed and she had her neck tilted all the way back to look him in the eye. "Well?"

"The review process —" Annie started, but Jeff muffled her with a kiss. He felt her legs lock around him as his hands dug into her shoulders and back. It was some time before she pulled back. "The review process has been expedited," she said breathlessly. "Congratulations. Welcome aboard." She made a face. "Ew, that sounded gross as soon as I said it. Forget I said that part."

"Okay," Jeff said, and kissed her some more. She wriggled delightfully in his arms. Why, he wondered, had he ever denied himself this? The Jeff of two weeks ago was a fool.

"Mmm!" Annie broke away from the kiss. "What do we tell people?"

Jeff wouldn't let her go. "That the greatest man they know has finally claimed the greatest woman? That today shall be declared a holiday throughout the land? That soon a new generation of golden super-children will arise to claim their place as leaders of humanity?"

She giggled, then sobered. "Wait, what? Jeff?"

 _Crap_ , Jeff thought, as Annie leaned backward and slid out of his arms. _Crap crap crap_. Annie was a feminist, after all. "I was speaking without thinking. We can tell them you claimed me, if you want…?"

* * *

It was the implications of _golden super-children_ that she was struggling with. Of course — she should have seen this one coming, really. He was more than twelve years older than she was. Obviously he'd want to start a family, have kids before he was forty. Annie wasn't certain about a lot of things, but she was definitely sure she didn't want a baby any time soon, or even any time soon plus nine months. She wasn't even sure whether she'd be any good at it; her own mother hadn't been the best example.

…Wait, what? Annie rewound the conversation in her head as her brain belatedly caught up to her ears. She realized Jeff had gotten caught up on the wrong extravagant claim. Maybe kids weren't a priority for him right now, she thought hopefully. Maybe they could compromise about it. "I mean, I want kids _someday_ , absolutely. Probably. Maybe."

"Oh!" Jeff said, understanding. He stammered for a bit.

But not right now, Annie thought, and there were a lot of hoops she wanted to jump through first. She struggled to think how best to convey it to him. "I'm not saying I don't ever want kids, but I'm only twenty-one and there are years before that's what I want to be doing." Annie sighed. This seemed like the kind of problem couples had in year three, or six, not during the first hour. Why was this coming up so quickly? There were all these roadblocks, issues, any one of which could sink them… "Why are we even having this discussion?" she asked Jeff, and herself. "Why are we talking about this now?"

* * *

Jeff held her close, as she pressed her head against his chest. "I think… because we're both worried that this is going to explode on the launchpad?" This was an understatement, he figured, but _worried_ sounded better than _resigned to the fact that_. "There are a million things that couples eventually break up over, and we're just running down the list trying to find one that will fit, because we think it'll happen eventually, anyway."

"Uh-huh," she said softly. "Okay. How do we fix that?" She slipped out of his arms again and unwrapped her legs from around his hips. Jeff watched her, bemused with the way she was constantly adjusting her skirt to keep it within some range of acceptable positions the parameters of which only she knew, until she cleared her throat at him. "Excuse me?" She gave his torso a little shove backwards.

Jeff obligingly stepped backwards, but grabbed her hand with his, holding it on his chest. "We could make out more," he suggested. Their eyes met and then Jeff realized there was no reason he _couldn't_ just grab her and bend down and kiss her.

"Okay," she said, a moment later. "Okay!" She twisted out of his grip and went skipping across the room, to her backpack. "What we do is, step one, we make a list." She pulled the notebook she'd stowed only minutes ago back out and flipped it open. "Step one, make a list," she repeated, and wrote that down.

Jeff approached her. "Is that step one for everything?"

"Most things," she said without looking up. "Step two, we agree to some principles…" Annie's words turned to whimpers as Jeff nibbled the back of her neck, which she'd more or less exposed by looking down at the tabletop in front of her to write, after all.

* * *

Some time passed – a minute? Several weeks? Fifteen seconds? There was no way to tell. As Jeff finally released her she considered saying something like _you're just enjoying toying with me like this_ but that seemed self-evident. Instead she just snuggled up against him. "First, we should keep this just between us, at least for right now."

"Absolutely," Jeff said readily. "We've got our hands full without trying to wrangle other people's expectations. Shirley, Pierce…"

"Abed," said Annie, remembering their Dreamatorium escapade through her romantic fantasies. Of course, she knew the actual Jeff Winger a lot better now than she had even a year ago, much less at the end of their first year.

"We don't tell anybody," Jeff declared. "That's easy, because it involves _not_ doing something, and _not_ doing something is always easier than doing anything." He petted her arm absently. "What else can we do?"

Annie wracked her brain. "What if…" Jeff was a lawyer; he could draw up a binding relationship contract. "No, that's stupid," she muttered, glad she hadn't said it out loud. What they needed was some way to establish a safety net, a guarantee from and for each of them that however fragile their couplehood was, it wouldn't melt unless they were both ready for it to. "What if we agreed to a fixed term? One week from today, we decide if we want to keep being a couple, bring up grievances and stuff, talk about the week. No matter what happens before then, the relationship is secure until the next weekly meeting."

Jeff made a disapproving sound. "That really feels like setting ourselves up for failure."

"Well, first off, there are no bad ideas in brainstorming. Secondly, I'm not hearing anything from you," Annie retorted. "I'm at least trying, here."

He sighed. "I know you are, and I applaud the sentiment. But really I think all we need to do is, both of us agree that when I do something boneheaded and thoughtless…"

"When, not if, that sounds right," Annie said teasingly.

"… you'll at least give me a chance to defend myself before you rake me over the coals." He smiled at her and she smiled back.

"Well, that sounds reasonable. And, for my part, if I ever fail to live up to the expectations you place in me, I hope you'll tell me so. Give me a chance to correct, don't just resign yourself to whatever screeching harpy or cow or shrew or…" She realized she'd made her point. "You know, there are a lot of derogatory words for women in English."

* * *

Jeff smiled at that. "I think we've demonstrated over the last few years that the only force that can possibly stand against us is one another."

She snorted. "Well, I've been taking that for granted." Her eyes sparked and Jeff felt an urge to kiss her which, gloriously, he could find no reason not to indulge…

Slow, ponderous clapping suddenly filled his ears. "Okay! We get it! You're in love!" someone cried. "Blah blah golden super-children! We get it!"

Jeff pulled away from Annie and realized that the back of the classroom had filled with… whatever class was scheduled for the room now. Vicki, in front, was the one who'd been applauding.

"I forgot about Theoretics of Basket-Weaving," Annie whispered to him, her face pale. "How long have they been in here?"

"I don't know," he whispered back.

"Minutes," answered Vicki. "Literal minutes I've been standing here. Jeez, you guys are oblivious. This is why we're not friends," she told Annie. "I mean, congratulations on finally screwing, but not everything is about you two, you know."

She had her phone out, Jeff realized. "Excuse me, Vicki," he began. "Could you… we'd like to keep this quiet."

"Shouldn't have made out in a classroom then," Vicki said without looking up. "That one's on you. Group text and… sent!"

"Five, four, three, two…" Jeff heard Annie murmur. Then both their phones began to explode.

* * *

END ACT TWO


	19. Theoretics of Basket-Weaving Act 3

THEORETICS OF BASKET-WEAVING

ACT THREE

* * *

Facing them — Abed, Troy, Britta, Pierce, and Shirley — wasn't so bad.

It wasn't great, but it wasn't _so_ bad.

But it wasn't great.

Jeff found Annie in his car, in the passenger seat. There were only so many places she might have fled to, when she bolted from the study room, and her preferred women's restroom had been in the opposite direction from the way she'd run. Plus he found he didn't have his keys, which meant she must have picked them up by mistake when they were cleaning up. Without pausing he opened the driver's-side door and climbed in.

She didn't acknowledge him immediately, so he just sat and watched her as she stared resolutely ahead. Finally she glanced his way, and cleared her throat apologetically. "Somebody else might have handled that better," she said slowly.

"I'm just surprised it wasn't me. I was about ten seconds from bolting," he assured her.

She scoffed. "Please. They'd forgive you anything."

"Not even!" Jeff reached out and held her arm. "I'm the guy who ought to know better than to toy with the heart of everyone's favorite. I'm older, supposedly wiser… if this goes south everyone will know it's my fault."

"I don't think so," Annie said. "I've worked hard to convince everyone that I can do anything, haven't I? Annie Edison doesn't mess things up. Chang told me to get him a date for tonight, remember? Me, specifically. I mean, he's crazy, but still. If this goes south it'll be my fault for biting off more than I can chew."

Jeff shook his head. "I'm pretty sure society has a pretty solid script for when the guy and the girl half his age break up, and which one is the fool."

"Half your…? Twelve years, Jeff. I'm two-thirds your age," she reminded him.

He shrugged. "Whatever."

"In thirty years I'll be four-fifths your age," she recited. "In fifty years I'll be seventeen-twentieths your age. If you live to be a hundred, I'll be eighty-eight percent of your age, which is twenty-two twenty-fifths."

Jeff looked at her in amazement. "Are you a lightning calculator and I didn't know it?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, I did all this math a long time ago. Back when we met and I didn't really know you."

Jeff laughed, nervously, suddenly uncomfortable.

"I know you now, though, you know?" Annie's tone was thoughtful. "You used to act like you were too cool to do anything, even though you were so cool you could do anything, and at first I thought there was… that I could take you and fix you. You'd do things for me, just because I asked. I thought I could make you into someone better, who would love me and never hurt me or leave me. But I didn't. I couldn't. I realized, eventually, that that wasn't possible."

Jeff cleared his throat, unsure what to say.

"Because that's who you were the whole time," Annie continued. "Well," she added, "you could hurt me, sure. But… you said once that I was your conscience, do you remember that?"

He shook his head.

"But I'm not. I'm just somebody who sees that you do have a heart. You're your own conscience, no matter how much you deny it."

"That may be," Jeff said. He fumbled for the right words. "But you make my conscience impossible to ignore."

She seemed unconvinced. "Maybe…"

"No maybe about it," he asserted. "For almost as long as I've known you, you've… I know it sounds trite, but you've made me want to be better than I am. More than that, you've made me think that I am better than I used to think I was, or that I can be better than that. It's like… it's like Superman and Lois Lane."

Annie raised an eyebrow. "Lois Lane? Really? Ooh!" she snickered. "Which of us is the superhero, and which of us is the mouthy brunette he lies to all the time, and who he has to rescue from monsters?"

Jeff squeezed her arm and smiled. "In the comics, Lois is Superman's wife. She's this incredible woman. She's smarter than he is, and she's a better reporter. And she knows how good he can be and when he isn't that good she calls him on it. Because she knows him."

She sighed. "Would Lois Lane have panicked and run in the face of that? I mean, I was kind of expecting…"

"Pitchforks and torches?" Jeff suggested.

"Well, yeah. But everybody was just so… unsurprised. I mean, the last thing that happened before I ran, was Shirley asked me what we had planned to celebrate?"

"Hey," Jeff said, "Shirley was being really pushy."

Annie shook her head. "She wasn't. She was just being Shirley. I shouldn't have run like that. I mean, obviously. I felt like I wasn't the one making the choice, like I was watching myself do it." She scowled. "No, that's not right. I knew what I was doing, I just couldn't… I panicked. I panicked and I ran."

"Well," Jeff said, "I wouldn't know what that's like."

"I guess panicking and running from them reminded me that sometimes… sometimes you panic and run. Not because you don't care what happens, but because you do care, so much. Sometimes things are scary, and they're scary because you're stepping out of your comfort zone and trusting other people to support you. Even if the support you need is just them not actively insulting you, that's still something, and that's scary. It's scary to depend on other people. It's scary to open yourself up to be hurt. That's why I wanted you on my terms, for so long. That's why I stopped you, that night." Annie shifted her position, trying to lean up against him and rest her head on his chest, but the center console separating the two seats made it impossible without getting up out of her seat entirely. So she did, sliding up onto the console; she ended up half in his lap, but Jeff didn't protest.

Instead he slid his arm around her. "You wanted me to say… actually, I'm still not a hundred percent clear on what exactly you wanted me to say," Jeff said. "I do regret saying what I did, though," he added quickly.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I wanted… in that moment, I needed to feel a little bit of control. Like, to reassure myself that what was happening was actually happening, that it wasn't the universe in general or you in particular playing a cruel trick on me. If I just hadn't said anything…"

"If you hadn't said anything, we would have ended up in a supply closet or a classroom, making out." Jeff had given it a fair bit of thought over the weeks since then.

She chuckled. "Yeah."

His arm around her tightened. "Once we got the initial flush out of our system, we'd have a long talk and at some point you'd get all big-eyed and shyly ask if you should refer to me as your boyfriend, or maybe you'd be sly about it and try to trick me into saying it first…"

"That sounds about right. So really all that happened was we got delayed by a couple of weeks." Annie smiled a little at that.

Jeff's hand brushed her cheek. "So," he said. "This would be a great time to leave campus. We're already in a car and our well-meaning friends are probably going to eventually find us otherwise."

Annie's smile widened a bit. "I do have class in… maybe twenty minutes? What time is it?"

Jeff started the car, so the clock on the dashboard lit up. "Last week was mid-terms," he pointed out. "So whatever new material is going to be covered today, it's going to be reviewed the most times out of all the material that'll be on the final. Ergo today's are the most skippable of classes."

"Not remotely," Annie said in correction. "Today's are the classes that will lay groundwork for the rest of the semester. If you miss today's classes you might as well just drop out!"

"It's not even ten," Jeff pointed out. "Usually I'm still asleep right now. We could take the whole day, and get out of here."

"Hmm." She was unconvinced. "We already did that once, and look how it went…"

"Exactly!" Jeff cried, as though she'd fallen into his rhetorical trap. "This would be a chance to do it right!"

* * *

"What are they doing?" Britta asked Troy. They stood, with Abed, Shirley, and Pierce, on the steps of the library. "No!" she hissed when he started towards Jeff's parked car, clearly visible a few dozen yards away. "Don't get any closer! They'll see us!"

"I don't think there's any risk of that," Pierce observed. "She's in his lap."

"She's in his lap?" Shirley craned her neck, trying to see without moving from the steps. "On a weekday morning?"

"Is it more sinful on a weekday morning?" Abed asked her.

She shook her head. "It's just, who has the energy?"

"Well, that settles that," Troy said, as he watched Jeff's car back out of its spot and leave the parking lot. "Who had today in the pool? Abed?"

Abed shook his head as Britta pulled out a folded sheet of paper. "Today's Tuesday the 30th, right?" She scanned the names and dates on the sheet. "Oh," she said, disappointed. "Chang."

Everyone groaned.

* * *

END OF ACT THREE

I'd like to thank Amrywiol and Bethanyactually for their commentary and editing. I'd also like to thank everyone who has favorited, followed, or reviewed this story; I'm insecure enough that these small particles of approval mean a lot to me.

 _Jeff Winger and Annie Edison will return in_

 _CHESS ENDGAMES I: KING AND PAWNS_


	20. Endgames I: King and Pawns Act 1

ENDGAMES I: KING AND PAWNS

ACT ONE

* * *

Early morning at Greendale was, traditionally, quiet and restful. Few students were on campus, and those who were present might well be making out in an otherwise-empty classroom. That was how Jeff and Annie had been starting their days for several days, enjoying the quiet and the honeymoon phase. However, on that Friday Chang posted a notice declaring that attendance at next week's classes would be mandatory, so now, the Monday after Halloween, the Historiography classroom was packed and they were obliged to sit silently and endure Chang's ranting without so much as held hands.

"Buenos dias, children!" Chang sneered at the class. "I know you're all wondering, 'why did Chang decide to start holding classes again?' 'What can he be thinking?' He's so inscrutable!' Ooh!" He pantomimed stroking a long Confucian beard. "Well, racists, somebody was too busy with her personal life to bother to remember _my_ personal life. Halloween came and went and I was stuck at home in a hot dog costume with nowhere to show it off and no one to show it off to! I spent three days camped at an adult bookstore, until they finally accepted the return just to be rid of me. So let's all give Annie Edison a big hand for thinking Jeff Winger is more important to her than I am, and for forcing us to all to get out of bed at an evil hour." He applauded, sarcastically, and glared at the class until a few students joined in.

"Hey!" Jeff cried out, as Annie sunk in her seat. "Not cool!"

"Jeff's right," rumbled Pierce from the back row. "It's his fault just as much as hers. We should be blaming both of them equally."

"No, I think Annie does deserve more of the blame," Shirley said thoughtfully.

Annie half-turned her head and shot Shirley an aghast look. "Shirley!" she stage-whispered.

"After all," Shirley said mildly, "you're the one who pulled down Chang's notice so no one else could see it. None of the rest of us even found out about it until after Halloween was over and you were telling us the story."

"You wouldn't want to have seen it anyway," Annie retorted. "'Ooh I'm Chang and I demand Annie set me up with Shirley, make it happen, duh duh duh,'" she said in an exaggerated idiot voice that, to be fair, sounded nothing like Chang. "That's what it said."

Shirley straightened up slightly in her chair. True, she was fairly happily married. Nevertheless, she was pleased to be reminded that there was at least one man at Greendale who wasn't intimidated by her sexuality, even if that man was Chang.

"People, please," said Pierce. He made a simmer-down hand gesture. "We're getting off track. What we should be discussing is how to punish Jeff for rocking the boat and making everyone get up early again."

"Have you ever noticed," Britta muttered to Abed next to her, "how for weeks now it seems like every conversation we have is about Jeff and Annie?"

Abed looked at her, saying nothing.

"Troy and I are plenty disruptive, too," Britta muttered to herself.

Meanwhile Chang struggled to restore a semblance of order. "Children!" he shouted.

"I'm older than you!" Leonard called back.

"Shut up, Leonard! Of course you're older than me, you were here when the angel Moroni was leading the Nephites," retorted Chang. He glowered as the class exchanged confused looks. "Jesus Christ, read the Book of Mormon sometime, people! It's the true history of the North American continent!"

Pierce cleared his throat. "If we can get back to the main business at hand?"

"Which is?" Chang asked, genuinely curious.

"Historiography!" Annie called, her hands cupped around her mouth like a megaphone.

"Oh, right." Chang nodded. "Historiography... Here we are, more than halfway through the semester, and I bet some of you still don't even know what historiography even is. Don't deny it, your ignorance is written all over your smug little faces. I want each and every one of you to write a ten thousand word essay… no, I'm going to have to read these… a one thousand word essay on the topic 'What is Historiography,' question mark. Yeah, that's right! Chang's back and he's handing out essay assignments! Bet you wish you were home in bed now!"

"We already wished that," Britta complained.

"And you better not just copy and paste the historiography article on Wikipedia, because I have already done that and you would be plagiarizing from the syllabus," Chang warned them.

"Weren't you going to just punish Jeff and Annie?" asked Vicki. She turned to them. "Nothing personal, guys, but I don't want to write an essay."

"As the duly self-appointed Vice-Chancellor-in-Residence of Greendale Community College, I forbid you from singling out Annie for special punishment," Pierce declared. "If you're going to punish someone, punish Jeffrey."

Annie turned in her seat and gave Pierce a pleading look on Jeff's behalf.

"Oh, fine," he said. "No special punishment for Jeff, either."

Shirley's purse emitted a loud buzz. She pulled out her phone and quickly silenced it. "I have cookies in the oven, can I be excused?"

"Are they cookies to soften the blow when you leave your husband for me?" Chang asked hopefully.

"No," Shirley said flatly. "Is sexually harassing me going to be your new thing? Because I'm sorry, but I don't find that funny. Once was cute, but I'm drawing the line at a second mention."

"It could be your new thing, too," Chang suggested. "I mean, the three kids, the baking, the small independent business, and the Christian stuff? That's all played out. You obviously need a new hook."

"No," Shirley repeated.

Chang rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Go."

"Do you want me to get you a restraining order?" Jeff suggested as Shirley got up to leave.

Vicki tugged his sleeve. "Could you get everyone a restraining order, or is that just for your little clique?"

"You want a restraining order against Chang?" he asked.

"Oh, would it just be against Chang?" Vicki was disappointed. "I was thinking, like, I could repel everybody."

"You already repel everybody!" cried Pierce. "Eh? Eh?" He held up his hand for a high-five from Troy, seated in front of him. "Eh?"

Troy just shook his head.

"Well, that's enough Chang truths laid down for today," Chang said. "Shirley's gone, so, who am I going to impress? Class dismissed."

"But you didn't actually lecture us at all," Annie protested as the rest of the class rose. "I thought you would at least use the lesson plan I gave you last month."

"Life's full of disappointments, Annie," Chang told her. "I thought by this time I'd either be generalissimo of a Latin American country or else playing keytar for the E Street band. Instead I'm here, _not_ dressed as a hot dog."

"Okay, okay, come on, everybody, let's get this over with." Jeff gestured to Britta, Troy, and the others, as the class filed out.

"Get this over with?" repeated Annie.

"We have six thousand pointless words to pointless write, and we're all awake," Jeff said, as if this were all self-evident. "So let's go to the study room and get it done so I can spend the rest of the day doing important things, like my girlfriend."

She gasped. "Ew, gross!"

"Annie," he reminded her, "you're my girlfriend, in this scenario. And in real life."

"I know that! That's still a really gross way of putting it." She looked away quickly and ducked her head down so he wouldn't see the big stupid grin on her face.

Britta shook her head as the group transitioned from the classroom to the hallway, Annie hanging on Jeff's arm. "When I was a kid I had a cat that wasn't spayed, and every time she went into heat she'd get all slutty and yowl. I'd have to squirt her with a water bottle to get her to stop."

"In my imagination the part of your cat is played by Eartha Kitt," Pierce announced.

Britta ignored him. "I can get a water pistol if I have to," she warned Jeff.

Out of deference to Britta's protests, Annie unwrapped from around Jeff. "I'll go tell Shirley we moved to the study room," she said, and winked at Jeff before turning and walking — almost skipping — away.

He watched her go and had, for all practical purposes, big cartoon hearts coming out of his eyes.

"So, is the plan to get Annie to write an essay, and then we all copy her paper while recasting the sentences into our own authorial voices?" Troy asked.

"Yes," said Britta.

"Yeah," said Abed.

"I just assumed that was what you were going to do," said Pierce.

"No!" Jeff said. "Because that would be plagiarism and academic misconduct and I am sure as hell getting my degree in May. I've managed to get this close to the bar association restoring my standing, I'm not about to put that at risk, and that is my official position on the subject. The plan is to discuss the assignment in an open salon, raising the level of discourse among ourselves and examining the issues that will permit us to each, individually, write the best papers." He winked.

"Did you just wink, or did you blink and I only saw half of it?" Abed asked him.

"Definitely not a wink," said Jeff. He winked again.

"La la la!" Pierce covered his ears. "La la la, as a school board member I obviously can't condone plagiarism."

"It's not plagiarism," Jeff assured him. "It's teamwork. No, better than teamwork. It's synergy."

* * *

"Jeff, what you're describing is plagiarism," Annie told him. "I'm surprised and disappointed… I'm disappointed," she amended.

The study group, Shirley and Annie included, had assembled in their usual room, seated around their usual table. The only difference since their last meeting, weeks prior, was that Jeff had slid over one seat to be closer to Annie.

"It's only plagiarism if you fail to credit the original source," he pointed out. "If my paper includes your paper in its bibliography…" He trailed off as she shook her head firmly at him.

"You can write a thousand word essay," Annie told him. She leaned over and grabbed his knee, which was in grabbing range thanks to his seating shift. "I believe in you."

"Damn it, my kryptonite," said Jeff, giving up. He sighed. "Why'd you have to go and say you believe in me?"

She bobbed her head in a self-satisfied manner. "Can't help it."

He smiled at her and she smiled at him and then several crumpled-up balls of paper hit them both.

"Oh my God, stop it!" cried Troy, as he, Britta, Abed, Shirley, and Pierce threw more balls.

"I didn't think anything would be worse than the way you two were dancing around each other all September," declared Shirley. "And I love love, you know that. But you two are being the worst right now. Why can't you be more like Britta and Troy? They give off so little sexual heat it's no wonder Abed doesn't feel threatened."

"Hey!" protested Britta.

"Wait, are Britta and Troy dating?" Pierce asked. "Huh." He thought a moment, then turned to Shirley and opened his mouth to ask her a question.

"No," she told him preemptively.

Annie straightened in her seat. "Jeff and I just got together," she reminded everyone. "There's bound to be a period of adjustment, but then things will be right back to normal. And it's not like we're making out in front of you guys."

"No, you saved that for Basketweaving. Hey-oh!" Pierce raised a hand for Troy to high-five. "Eh?"

Troy shook his head.

"You two are holding hands under the table right now," Abed pointed out.

Jeff and Annie guiltily lifted their clasped hands above the table and rested them, apart, in plain view.

"I thought I was okay with this development," Abed continued. "The arc of your relationship has been clear for the last year and a half, at least. But I can see now that pairing Jeff up with Annie puts a strain on the group dynamic that wasn't present when Britta and Troy began dating, or when Britta and Jeff were sleeping together."

Jeff, Annie, Britta, and Troy all winced at the reminder of Jeff and Britta's affair. Abed didn't seem to notice.

"For multiple story arcs now," he said, "perhaps going back all the way to the formation, Jeff and Annie have been focused on one another more than on other members of this study group. Now that they're romantically linked that's even more true. It begins to seem inevitable that they'll spin off, by which I mean they'll drop out of the group entirely. At that point the group will cease to exist, and we'll all stop being friends. I thought we would last until the end of the school year, and that the shared experience of bachelor's degrees for at least four of us could help us transition, together, into whatever the future holds. But then this happened, and now the group is splintering prematurely, and our collective friendship is doomed." Abed's face tightened. "It's finally happened. This is endgame, and they're the endgame couple."

"Nobody ask him what he means," Jeff said, before anyone could.

"I feel like I just explained it pretty clearly," Abed said. "Now, if you'll all excuse me," he continued, rising, "I'm going to go for a long thoughtful walk underscored by melancholy alt-pop." He walked to the doorway, and paused. "Troy and Britta are welcome to join me," he said, before leaving.

Everyone still at the table exchanged nervous glances.

"I feel like I should go after him," Troy said. He had a sheepish grin as he rose and exited.

"And Britta!" declared Britta, who followed him out.

Annie caught Jeff's eye, or maybe they'd just been looking at one another this whole time. Okay, definitely they'd just been looking at one another this whole time. "Do you think we should go after him, or…?"

"Honestly I think they have it," Jeff assured her.

"You're probably right." Annie sighed, and turned back to her notes. "You're a terrible influence on me," she said without looking up. "'Annie, it's right after midterms, let's skip class.' 'Annie, it's late, stay over.' 'Annie, Troy's got it, don't go run down Abed even though he's one of your best friends, and the only person you ever talked to about…'" She looked up. "I should go after him."

Jeff shook his head. "Troy does indeed got it. And he already has Britta looking over his shoulder; he doesn't need us."

Annie looked unconvinced. "Once upon a time Britta would have stayed in here and it would have been Troy and Abed and Annie…" She looked down. " _in the morn-ning!_ " she sang, very very quietly.

Jeff raised an eyebrow. "If you actually wanted to go," he said, "you'd have gotten up and went. And if you wanted me to go with you, you'd have already started giving me the eyes…"

Annie smiled, and started to give Jeff the eyes, as he put it, but broke off giggling.

"Now see those are a different set of eyes," Jeff protested.

"My God," said Pierce, still sitting at the other end of the table. "It's like we're not even here."

"I know!" Shirley made a disgusted face. "They've been like this for days."

Pierce cupped his mouth. "Earth to lovebirds!" he called. "Come in, lovebirds!"

Jeff and Annie both startled, as though they'd forgotten Pierce and Shirley were still in the room, which of course they had. "Right, right," said Annie.

"Sorry," said Jeff.

"Super sorry," agreed Annie. She cleared her throat. "So, um. Historiography is the study of…"

Shirley's purse buzzed again. "Eugh. Actually I need to get back to the lunch counter," she said as she checked the time. "I'd hurry back, but you two really are insufferable at the moment and I have work to do. Pierce, you want to come with?"

"Hm? Oh, sure," said Pierce. "We can go over Shirley's Sandwiches's menu and I can make suggestions."

"You see? This is how insufferable you are. I'm leaving with Pierce," Shirley told Jeff and Annie.

"Huh," said Annie, once she and Jeff were left alone in the study room. "Huh," she said again, at a loss for words. They stared at one another.

"I'm trying, I really am," he said, with all sincerity. He scooted his chair closer to hers. "But I just can't make myself believe this is a bad thing."

She giggled quietly as she rested her head on his shoulder. "It's all the hormones. I did some research on this…"

"Of course you did." Jeff had put his arm around her.

"And a new relationship starts with a honeymoon phase, during which your significant other triggers your brain releasing serotonin and adrenaline and… stuff. It'll wear off eventually. A year, two years." Annie emitted a happy sigh as leaned against him. "Three tops."

* * *

Troy and Britta caught up to Abed as he strolled across campus. "Hey, guys," he said as they approached. He neither slowed nor quickened his pace.

"Buddy!" Troy fell into step beside him. "What's the plan?"

"Abed, as basically your therapist, I understand that this is a stressful time for you. It's stressful for everyone, what with the discarded Halloween decorations and I didn't get any breakfast this morning so I'm fading fast and maybe we could stop at a coffee shop or something?" Britta shook her head. "That's not important. What's important is that all your friends are here for you. Mostly me and Troy. And, you know, we've been a couple for months now, and we haven't spun off!"

"Yeah," Troy agreed, because he felt like he should add something.

"That's sweet of you to say, Britta, but the fact is your relationship is far too low-key to ever inspire that kind of stress. Face it, if we were a TV show, there wouldn't be much Troy/Britta fanfiction. There'd be a dash of Jeff/Britta fanfiction, some Abed/Annie fanfiction, even Troy/Abed slashfic…"

Troy beamed. "You know it, buddy!"

Britta shot him a bewildered look.

"But far and away, the bulk of the fanfic would be Jeff/Annie. I'm not saying your relationship is any less valid than theirs." Abed shrugged. "I'm just saying I know what the American viewing public likes, and it's a tiny small-footed white woman paired with a tall athletic white man."

"Britta," Troy interjected, "Abed is not saying your feet are big… dude!" he hissed at Abed. "Tell her her feet are small!"

Britta glanced down at her perfectly reasonably-sized feet, bemused.

"Ideally both are extremely photogenic and also highly neurotic in complementary ways that generate angst," Abed continued. "You're both very attractive people, but I think we all know who wins the angst-and-neuroses contest."

"I can be neurotic and angsty!" Britta protested. "Remember a couple of weeks ago when I almost dumped Troy because he bought me a cake?" She jabbed her finger triumphantly.

"No almost about it," said Troy quietly. "We were broken up for almost a day."

Britta sighed and threw an arm around him. "Thanks for taking me back. I love you."

"I love you, too," Troy told her, and gave her a quick kiss.

Abed cleared his throat, as Troy and Britta smiled at one another. "Exactly my point. Meanwhile Jeff and Annie were starring in their own private opera," he said. "Clearly, there's only one thing to be done."

"Make peace with the changing world around you and adapt?" Britta asked hopefully.

"Oh Britta," Abed said sadly. He reached out and stroked her cheek. "You were the sweetest of us all."

END ACT ONE


	21. Endgames I: King and Pawns Act 2

ENDGAMES I: KING AND PAWNS

ACT TWO

* * *

Night at the apartment shared by Troy, Abed, and Annie. They hadn't written their historiography essays, or indeed made as much progress as Annie felt was seemly, so she and Jeff met up again after dinner to work on them… although that made it sound like they hadn't been in one another's company continuously, which of course they had.

Jeff was typing on a laptop at the kitchen table, while Annie sat on the sofa with her own laptop. "Hah!" Jeff cried, leaning back from his computer. "One thousand and eleven words answering the twin questions _what is historiography?_ and _is it possible for a man to die of boredom while writing_?"

"Let me see, let me see," Annie said as she rose and moved to the table. "Didn't you have to write briefs and memos and things when you were a lawyer?"

"You'd be amazed how little of that work I actually did," said Jeff, cracking his knuckles. He slid his laptop over to her. "Actually, you probably wouldn't be amazed."

Annie quickly scanned the document. "Jeff," she said reprovingly. "I assumed you were joking but literally a third of this is about how boring it was to write." She deleted the offending paragraphs with a few keystrokes. "And you barely mention Marxist analysis; there's easily four hundred words begging to be written about E.H. Carr."

Jeff scowled. "You do realize Chang is probably not going to read a single word of any of these, don't you? At best he'll skim to make sure that they aren't just random keyboard mashings."

"That's no excuse for shoddy work," Annie insisted as she slid his laptop back to him. "How can you respect yourself, if you just phone in the bare minimum necessary? _Monkeys_ just phone in the bare minimum necessary."

"Actually I think monkeys don't take community college classes at all…" Jeff trailed off, staring at her.

She returned his gaze quizzically. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

"No, no. You're just… you are stunningly beautiful. How do you get through the day like that? Knowing that everyone you meet is thinking _what am I looking at here, some kind of supernatural being_? Men and women both, regardless of their normal orientations, lusting after you?" He reached out to touch her, and she obligingly stepped a bit closer to his chair.

"Flatterer," she said, but she was smiling. "That's not going to get you out of doing the assignment."

"I mean every word," he assured her, "but now that you mention it, there are just so many better uses of my time than writing an essay no one will read…"

"I'll read it," Annie told him. "And the sooner you're done, the sooner we're… celebrating how done you are." She spun away, out of his grasp, and danced her way back to the sofa.

"You're a monster, you know that?" Jeff grinned, and turned back to his laptop.

After only a couple of minutes the apartment door opened and Troy, Abed, and Britta swept in.

"Oh, they're here," Troy said when he saw Jeff and Annie already there. He sighed. "Hi, guys."

"You're sitting at opposite ends of the room, with Jeff facing away from Annie," Abed observed. "Did you have a fight?"

"No, no, I got it," Britta said before Jeff or Annie could respond. "You separated physically because you get distracted staring at each another if you're in a different position. Or at least Jeff does. Am I right? If I'm right don't say anything, just exchange glances laden with romantic subtext… I thought so," she said smugly as Jeff and Annie did indeed exchange glances, over Jeff's shoulder.

"You finish your essays?" Troy asked, as he sauntered to the fridge and found leftovers.

"Mine's done," Annie said. "Jeff is still finishing his."

"Jeff would be done," Jeff declared, "if a certain someone… hey!" He broke off as Britta squirted him with a water pistol.

"I warned you," she said simply.

"I didn't even…"

"You were gonna." Britta sat on the sofa next to Annie, her feet tucked under her.

"Annie, a word?" Abed said suddenly.

She looked up from her work. "What?"

"A word," he repeated. "In the bathroom."

"In the bathroom?" She raised her eyebrows.

"I don't have a room and it would be presumptuous to ask to meet you in your room," Abed explained.

"Okay," Annie said doubtfully, as she rose and allowed Abed to lead her to the bathroom.

Troy plopped down in the space she vacated, containers of leftovers in his lap. "Food?" He offered one of the containers to Britta.

She took it but eyed the container suspiciously. "What is this?" she asked, tugging on the container's opaque plastic lid. "Ew, it's furry!"

"Oh, then it's probably the Chinese we ordered in May that one time," Troy said, with a sort of _that answers that_ air.

"Troy, it's November," Britta told him.

He shrugged and began digging through the brown glop in one of the other containers, with a fork and a determined expression.

"How about we order a pizza?" Britta asked, putting the lids back on the containers.

"Oh, uh, sure, if you don't feel like Chinese…" Troy rose. "I'll call it in."

"So this is a thing, huh?" Britta asked Jeff as soon as he was gone. She moved from the sofa to a kitchen chair next to him.

"I guess." Jeff didn't look up from his work.

"You and Annie, me and Troy…" Britta continued.

"Uh huh."

"Of course," Britta said as though the thought had just occurred to her, "Troy and I got together a while back."

"Uh huh."

"It probably would have happened earlier, except he was away in the AC Repair Annex all summer," she said artlessly.

"Yep."

Britta folded her arms and scowled at Jeff. "Why were you never even a little bit jealous?"

He finally looked up. "What?"

"I mean, you and I had this on again, off again thing for… well, for a while," she said. "But I've never seen you get jealous of Troy. You've never been jealous in your life!"

"I've gotten jealous," Jeff said. He was unsure why they were having this conversation but he was unwilling to concede the point.

"Name one time."

"Uh… Vaughn, our first year here. That jerk from City College who screwed up paintball sophomore year…" Jeff struggled to think of other examples. "Rich!"

"Okay, firstly, those guys were all into _Annie_ ," Britta said. "Or she was into them. Secondly, I do remember you being jealous of Vaughn _over Annie_ and your solution was to throw Troy at her."

Jeff looked bemused. "Heh, yeah. I forgot about that."

"But you weren't jealous of Troy. And you definitely weren't jealous of me and Troy. You've never been jealous of me and anybody."

He stared at her. If he didn't know her better he'd think she was fishing for some kind of validation on the grounds that she was jealous of his relationship with Annie. But while Britta constantly sought validation on a variety of points, Jeff was sure that wasn't one of them. "Where are you going with this?" he asked bluntly.

She shook her head angrily. "I'm happy with Troy. It's going really well, scary well, I keep thinking I'm going to screw it up and them somehow that doesn't happen, and Abed and Annie are his roommates but they don't throw things at me, and…" Seeing Jeff's expression, Britta stopped. "I've had some bad experiences."

He nodded slowly.

"I'm happy. But I look at you and Annie, and I'm like, they are so into each other it's godawful, and I wonder why you and me weren't like that. I mean," she continued quickly, "I'm fine with not being into you, but you were never into me like you're into her. Why was that?"

"Because we were a terrible couple and we only hooked up out of mutual self-loathing?" Jeff asked. "I'm not being glib," he added. "We were a terrible couple and we only hooked up out of mutual self-loathing."

"Speak for yourself, mister self-loathing guy," Britta snorted.

"Okay, I was being a little glib." Jeff cocked his head. "We were a subpar couple and we hooked up out of weakness and boredom rather than any remotely romantic impulses or deeply felt emotion. It makes sense that we'd both be happier with other people."

"Yeah, well, I'm not used to seeing ex-boyfriends being happy with other women," she said. "Usually when I get a new ex-boyfriend I don't stick around to see them live happily ever after with the one true love that I was just warming them up for."

Jeff smiled.

"I said 'one true love' and now you're thinking about Annie, aren't you?" Britta accused him.

His eyes widened slightly. "No…"

She scoffed.

"Fine, I was," Jeff retorted. "Is that so wrong? I mean, yes, we've been together for like a week…"

"I'm surprised you don't know the exact number of hours," Britta said.

"And yes, I keep thinking about five, ten, thirty years ahead and how I want to spend the rest of my life with her and yes, I'm maybe a little terrified that she'll lose interest, or that I can't turn this off when I need to and I become just a pit of emotional neediness and drive her off, or that when she finishes becoming the incredible woman that she already mostly is, that incredible woman won't want someone like me, and yes, I am dealing with that by not thinking about it, but…" He noticed he'd been speaking louder and faster, and stopped. "What was the question?"

Britta brightened. "Who cares? Look at you being all self-aware! That was a breakthrough."

"That was not a breakthrough," Jeff replied wearily.

"That was totally a breakthrough. You been _therapized_!" Britta grinned. A thought struck her. "Hey, would you be willing to sign an affidavit describing this as a successful therapy session?"

* * *

In the bathroom Annie sat primly on the closed toilet seat and stared at Abed, who hopped onto the counter by the sink. He stared back at her.

Eventually she cleared her throat. "Abed," she said. "What did you need to talk to me about?" She glanced around. "In the bathroom?"

Abed looked at her, saying nothing.

"Is this," she began, her eyes narrowing, "about rent? Because I'm not moving out, okay, and Jeff isn't moving in, and we had this discussion already about Troy and Britta, and if one of them moves we'll deal with it then and…" She trailed off as Abed slowly shook his head no. "Okay, do I need to keep guessing?"

"I'm really happy for you," Abed told her.

"Oh." Annie waited for him to elaborate, but when he didn't, she spoke. "Thank you?"

"I see you and Jeff Winger, and I think 'ah, that's love.' Beautiful." Abed was looking right at her, Annie realized, but his eyes weren't actually focused on her.

"Well, we just started going out, I think it's too early to put, you know, a label on it," she said carefully.

"No, you're wrong, Annie. It's love. I know. I know what love looks like. Intense. Passionate. Permanent. Boundless. He's been hurt so many times before. His father leaving him. Failing out of college. Getting his legal credentials taken from him. I assume other bad things, also." Abed blinked, twice, deliberately. "But now he has you."

Annie leaned forward and squinted at him. "Okay," she said slowly, smiling. "Drop the act, Robert Stack. You're trying to freak me out."

Abed shook his head again. "No. I'm trying to find a way to tell you how I feel."

"How you feel?" she repeated skeptically.

"How I feel when I see you with him. So joyous, so full of life, so beautiful."

"Aw," Annie cooed. She sobered. "But also oh, as in, oh, no, you're full of it."

"It causes me pain. It shouldn't." Abed lowered his head.

"Okay, so…" Annie raised her hands. "I think I've got this. You're claiming to secretly be in love with me… because you think that might break up me and Jeff… because you think that might save the study group as an entity… because you think that's the only way to keep Jeff as a friend." She ticked each point off on her fingers. "Not just Jeff, but me and… Shirley and Pierce?"

Abed opened his mouth, then closed it again, then opened it again. "And Britta."

"I think you're stuck with Britta," Annie told him. She patted his knee sympathetically. "You're stuck with all of us."

"You're going to leave." Abed was still looking at the floor. "Jeff will go with you. Shirley is already half out the door. Pierce will wander off when Jeff goes. Britta and Troy will break up and Britta will move to Dallas. This is the last season of _Fringe_ and it's only thirteen episodes and I hate when a series that used to have twenty-two episodes in a season gets cut to thirteen, there should be more, it's like a half-season, two half-seasons make one whole season so when you say season six do you really mean six seasons or do you mean four and a half seasons because of shortening…"

"Abed!" Annie cut him off. "It's going to be okay. It is! People care about you… I care about you. I'm not going to just vanish because I'm in a relationship."

He looked her in the eyes. "You'll move out. Britta will move in. That will be the first step."

"I don't think that's going to happen…"

"Britta is insecure. Troy is optimistic. There'll be space in the apartment when you move in with Jeff."

"What? No!" Annie lifted her arms to fend away imagined codependence-demons. "Abed, Jeff and I _just_ got together. We're not about to rush into cohabitation, I promise…"

Abed shook his head. "You say that, but it's going to happen. It's already started. You're the endgame couple."

"Okay. Okay," Annie said. "Okay. What would it take to convince you that you aren't on the verge of suddenly losing all your friends?"

"If you and Jeff un-resolved your sexual tension," he said promptly.

"That's not happening. I mean, it's not possible. Also: ew." A thought struck Annie. "What if, though," she said warmly, "instead of losing all your friends, we all continued to be your friends for… like, a set period of time. Jeff can draw up a contract, which we'll all sign, promising to stay friends no matter what."

Abed considered this. "No," he said. "Eventually people will die, or get drafted and have to live on a army base in West Virginia, or move to Dubai to be part of an oil billionaire's informal harem of semi-captive women. Those might not be the most likely scenarios," he admitted, "but things do change."

"Ah, yes!" Annie cried, as though Abed had fallen into her rhetorical trap. "But what we do is, see, we give the contract a sunset clause of… say, six months. Around graduation, it'll expire and then we negotiate a replacement contract. If we can't come to an agreement then, we stop being friends."

Abed boggled.

"But! If we _do_ sign another contract, or an extension of the existing one, then boom, we're friends for another six months or however long we agree to. And until contract negotiations come up, we _can't_ stop being friends, because we're contractually obligated," Annie said brightly. She drew up, plainly pleased with herself.

"That's brilliant," Abed said. "I love it."

END ACT TWO


	22. Endgames I: King and Pawns Act 3

ENDGAMES I: KING AND PAWNS

ACT THREE

* * *

The next morning around ten the dean sailed into the study room. He wore a crisp Napoleonic era military uniform, red and blue with a high hat. "Good morning all!" he cried. "I'm here to remind you that today Greendale declares _War on Seasonal Affective Disorder_! There will be a full battery of vitamin D supplements available in the cafeteria, one wing is being set aside as a holiday-free zone for those who find pictures of snowmen and Santa conjure traumatic memories… Normally we don't start the war until after Thanksgiving, but I thought given that SAD pretty soundly defeated us last year we would get the jump on it…" He trailed off when he realized that the room was empty.

"Odd." He checked his watch: ten thirty. Normally Jeffrey and the others would be sitting around their table, chatting about nonesuch and sundries… Of course Chang had been erratic, as an instructor, the dean knew. That morning around four he'd sent out a blast email declaring that historiography classes were being moved to six in the evening at a bar off campus. The dean was unsure that was permitted, but confronting Chang about it would involve confronting Chang. No thank you, the dean thought. Best to just ignore it.

Regardless of Chang's antics, probably the study group were meeting at a different time, or not at all, or what have you. Vowing to try again later, the dean swept back out of the study room. The midmorning crowd in the cafeteria were his next target; in many ways they were the specific intended audience for the War on SAD, as they were hanging out in a community college lunchroom in the middle of the day.

Seconds after the dean's exit, Troy and Abed entered and took their seats.

"I'm telling you man, I am super pissed at her," Troy declared, apropos of nothing.

Abed glanced around the room. "Who?"

"Britta! Duh-doy! Man!" He threw his arms theatrically up in the air. "I just can't," Troy paused for breath, "believe what she said!"

"What did she say?" Abed asked.

"Oh man, what did she say! She said… something awful." Troy blinked. "Okay, actually she didn't say anything. No, that's not right either. What she said was, 'hey Troy, let's pretend to have a fight and draw some attention away from Jeff and Annie. No, let's not do that, I'm being stupid, forget I said anything, you're so nice.' I'm paraphrasing."

"You are nice," Abed acknowledged.

"So I'm going to surprise her by picking a big dramatic fight with her. I'm pretty sure she'll love it," Troy said confidently.

"Okay," said Abed. "Do you need me to do anything?"

Troy nodded. "I've already told you about it, so, yeah. People are going to think, 'hey, Troy and Britta fighting, Abed will be on Troy's side because they're buds.' You know?"

"Uh huh."

"But, if you take Britta's side in the fight…" Troy made an enticing gesture. "Then they'll be like, 'hey, Abed and Britta against Troy? This is some must-see TV going on here!'"

"Drum up interest. Check," said Abed.

Troy would have given him more detailed instructions, but just then Britta entered. "Am I late?" she asked as she sat down next to Troy.

"Yes you are, and I for one am insulted," Troy declared. He elbowed Abed.

"You are a very punctual person, Britta," Abed told her.

"We're all sitting here waiting on you," Troy continued. "It's truly outrageous!"

"If anything you're early. Annie, Jeff, Shirley, and Pierce are all later than you are," said Abed. "You don't need to apologize."

"You definitely need to apologize!" thundered Troy.

Britta stared at him. "Sorry?" she offered.

Abed leaned towards her. "It's okay, we're doing a bit."

"It is not okay!" shouted Troy. "And we are definitely not doing a bit!"

"I agree with Abed," said Britta. "You guys are doing a bit."

"Well I disagree with Abed!" screamed Troy.

Britta winced. "Okay, take it down a notch, you're really loud."

"Am not," declared Troy, but he declared it in a more normal tone of voice.

"He was being really loud, yes," Abed agreed quietly.

Shirley entered the room, with Pierce close on her heels. "And another thing, what's deal with Let's Potato Chips?" Pierce was saying. "Their motto is 'get your damn hands off of my Let's!' Who says that? Who are the people who are getting so riled up about who's handling whose potato chips?"

"Pierce, for the last time, I don't want to hear your standup!" Shirley sat heavily in her seat. "Would someone tell him he isn't funny?"

"You're not funny, Pierce," Britta wasted no time in saying.

"My brand of humor may be more ironic and cerebral than you're used to," Pierce said as he, too, sat down.

"Britta's right." Abed's tone was firm. "Pierce is not funny."

"I think he's very funny," Troy said. "Pierce! Say something funny!"

"No," responded Pierce, affronted. "I'm not your performing monkey, here to be made fun of!" He glanced at Jeff and Annie's empty seats. "Speaking of, where's Jeffrey?"

"Oh, who knows," said Britta. "I haven't seen either of them since they finished their historiography essays last night."

"Finished their… Did you people have a study session without me?" Shirley asked, plainly appalled.

"No! No, no, no," Troy assured her.

"Yes," said Abed.

"It wasn't really a study session," Britta explained. "Annie just had Jeff over, and they were working."

"And we joined them," said Troy. "But not working."

"A little working," corrected Abed. "And Jeff and Annie were definitely working, just like Britta said."

Britta shook her head dismissively. "Ignore them," she told Shirley and Pierce. "They're doing a bit."

"We are, yeah," said Abed.

"We are not!" cried Troy at the same time.

Jeff and Annie strolled into the room, holding hands as though they were in middle school. "Morning all," Jeff said breezily.

"Are we late?" Annie glanced at the clock on the wall as she took her seat. Jeff, too, sat, in his new Annie-adjacent position.

Troy, seeing Britta (and Shirley and Pierce) all shake their heads slightly in a manner intended to convey _you're not late or if you are you aren't late enough to make a fuss about it_ , cleared his throat loudly. "You are! And I for one am outraged! How dare you keep us all waiting!"

Britta rolled her eyes. "They're doing a bit," she told Jeff and Annie.

Annie nodded in understanding. "Oh, that makes sense."

"We are doing a bit," Abed agreed. "It's definitely eyeroll-worthy," he added.

"We aren't and it isn't!" cried Troy.

"Is there more to the bit, or is this basically it?" Jeff asked, gesturing towards Abed and Troy.

The pair exchanged glances. "This is basically it, yeah," Troy admitted.

"Okay, well, I think we've all learned something," Jeff said. "Great bit, guys."

The dean, still dressed in a Napoleonic uniform, marched into the study room. "Good morning all! You're all here, good… I just popped in to remind you that today's the day we declare _War on Seasonal_ …" He trailed off, staring at the back of Jeff's head. "I see," he said coldly.

Jeff and Annie exchanged glances before Jeff craned his head around to look the dean in the eye. "See what?"

The dean cleared his throat. "You've changed seats, Jeffrey."

"I slid over one," Jeff said, trying to brazen it out. "So?"

The dean glared at Annie, who had turned beet red and was staring at her hands. "I see what's happened here," he said with a sniff. He looked around at the other members of the study group, trying to gauge their reaction. No one met his gaze. "I suppose we can discuss this in private, another time," the dean said stiffly.

"This is ridiculous," Pierce declared. "He wanted to sit next to his girlfriend; what's the big deal?"

"Oh!" The dean cried out, stricken. "Pierce knows about… this?" He gestured towards Annie, who emitted a shocked gasp at his uncharacteristically dismissive tone. "You told Pierce before you told me, Jeffrey?"

"I didn't tell anyone," Jeff said quickly. "Also, calm down."

The dean shook his head and shifted to address Annie. "Annie, you are one of my favorite people, you know that. And I suppose given the heteronormative nature of our society it was inevitable you'd come out the victor in our little contest…"

"Oh, God," muttered Jeff, rubbing his temples.

"But I'm more than a little disappointed to have to hear about it from _Pierce_ of all people," the dean concluded. "You told him before you told me?"

"I didn't!" Annie squeaked.

"Hey, I have every right to be told! I'm Jeff's best friend and Annie sees me as a surrogate father," protested Pierce.

"She doesn't," Britta assured him.

"Actually I think she kind of does!" cried Troy desperately, in a fruitless attempt to turn attention away from Jeff and Annie. Abed and Britta patted him on the shoulders as he lay his head on the table and quietly sobbed.

"It's okay honey," Britta whispered to him. "It's okay."

"It's not…" murmured Troy, crying.

"Britta's right," whispered Abed.

"And besides," Pierce continued, "I only found out when Shirley forwarded me Vicki's text. So if you're going to blame anyone, blame her!" He pointed at Shirley.

"Thanks a lot, Pierce," Shirley grumbled.

"Vicki's text? Vicki texted Shirley?" The dean whipped his head around, trying to follow the chain of informants.

"Not just me," Shirley said guiltily. "She sent a mass text to all the students, when she caught these two sinning together in a classroom."

"The _whole student body_ knows?! And no one told me?!" The dean screeched in inchoate rage. He spun on his heel. "VICKI!" the dean shouted, as he stomped out. "VICKI!"

* * *

A/N: This concludes "Nothing But Blue Skies." Thank you so much for reading! Reading, reviewing, favoriting, following, all of that.

My original outline was 13 chapters, not seven, and ran to the end of the fall semester. However, at this point I'm over fifty thousand words in and it seems like a good point to stop, and declare that the rest of the story is this one's sequel, "If It Makes You Feel Better." You can read it, too! It's got Jeff and Annie as a couple basically the whole way through! Also Annie's mother.

Thanks, once again, to Amrywiol and Bethanyactually, who both read selected chapters of this story and offered helpful input. Rest assured, the chapters that aren't as good are the ones they didn't beta-read.


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